Bleeding Reality
by Lif61
Summary: Two are dead in the quiet town of Windom, Minnesota, and with no obvious cause of death, Sam and Dean decide to investigate. A new monster has them digging into uncharted territory, where the dangers are those they can't recognize. They're drawn in deep, and for Sam, there are dire consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a multi-chapter fic which is completed, so I'll be posting one chapter a day until I have the whole story on here. Since this story is incredibly intense, I'm just going to have all the warnings up front. This story contains rape and non-con elements, explicit sex scenes, and graphic depictions of violence. Don't read if you can't handle any of that.**

* * *

"So the vics just… _died_? The police don't know how?" Dean questioned, his voice drawing Sam back to reality.

He'd been glancing out the window, idly watching the slowly evolving landscape, seeing as the trees on either side of the road became pine the further north they went. The road was a rural one, carving through rough landscape, the occasional farm, and over rivers. Given that it was a Tuesday afternoon, the road was empty except for them, so Dean took the liberty to speed a little. At this rate they should make it to Windom, Minnesota in time to grab some dinner.

Sam turned to Dean, the details of the case they were working on coming to the forefront of his mind. "Nope. They're just dead. Possible heart failure."

"So a witch or a ghost, maybe?"

"Could be, but the toxicology report still weirds me out."

"What, 'cause of all the hormones that were found in their blood? What were they again?"

Sam picked up the police report that lay on his lap, and he skimmed a little, finding the right part before listing off as he read, "Dopamine, norepinephrine, testosterone, oxytocin, and serotonin. Basically, the couple, Amy and David King, had a _lot_ of sex just before they kicked the bucket."

Dean chuckled. "What a way to go. You know how I always said I wanted to go out fighting? Might've changed my mind, 'cause that's just…" He let out a low whistle before finishing, " _Wow_."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes and said, "Dean, people are dead. This isn't funny."

"Come on, they were found naked; it looks like they screwed each other to death. You're tellin' me you don't want to go out like that? Seriously, when was the last time you got some action that wasn't from a demon?"

Sam huffed, "Great, we're bringing this up again?"

"No, I'm serious. You need to get laid. And by a human."

For some reason Sam's stomach fluttered uncomfortably at the prospect of that, and then he nearly jumped in his seat because it felt like someone was touching his thigh. The hand was familiar, but he couldn't place a face, a voice, or even a specific memory to it. He just… knew it. And he didn't like it. He looked down in confusion, but nothing was there. Of course nothing was there. There wasn't a single person around who would touch him like that. And yet… The hand was traveling up higher, and then paused just below his hip, the thumb kneading the inner part of his thigh. He suddenly felt too hot, and it was uncomfortable, unwanted. Sam swallowed roughly, and tried to get himself together enough to respond.

Dean hadn't noticed anything was up, his eyes still on the road, so Sam got out, "Whatever. L-let's just focus on the case."

The hand started moving higher again, and for some reason it felt like it was right up against his skin. Just as nails began digging into him in a rather sensual manner, the sensations left, vanishing as if they'd never existed. But they had. They must've.

 _What the hell?_

He was staring down at his lap again. Nothing. There was nothing there. Why had that just happened to him? _What_ had just happened to him?

Sam was sweating a little from the strange ordeal, his stomach wound tight with anxiety. That hadn't been right. None of that had been right. But he couldn't tell Dean. It'd be too weird. Sure, they dealt with weird, but when it came to them, that was a different story. Probably best to ignore it.

"Fine," Dean agreed. "So run it by me again?"

Sam snapped his head up and gave Dean a confused glance.

"What?"

"The case," Dean reiterated. "Run it by me again."

"Oh, right. Um…" Sam pulled the newspaper with the story in it out from underneath the police report, looking it over again, though he already knew the details by heart. It gave him something to focus on that didn't involve being touched in an odd way. He suppressed a shudder and then cleared his throat before saying, "Mr. and Mrs. King, both 27 years old, were found dead in their home by a friend from work, Audrey Miller. She claims they hadn't shown up so she went to check on them. They'd already been dead for a day, and according the police report, Amy, the wife, was three months pregnant."

Dean winced at that last part. "So you think we should talk to Audrey?"

"Definitely. She could've noticed something the police didn't, or maybe she saw something she didn't want to tell them."

"Yeah, people always clamp up when things go crazy."

They definitely did. And Sam knew he was doing that now. But what could he possibly tell Dean? That he felt like someone had been touching him? There was no way he'd believe him. And if he did there wasn't anything they could do about it. Then again, maybe it was nothing. Maybe Sam was overreacting, or maybe this was because he'd barely slept the night before. And besides, it'd be downright awkward telling Dean he'd felt like someone had been touching him. That wasn't really something one told their own brother.

Something felt off, though; wrong. Maybe he _should_ tell Dean. No, he'd probably just laugh it off, maybe make some crude joke. He might even call him crazy.

The memory of being touched flashed through his mind, the hand resting against his thigh as if it belonged there, and somehow, Sam knew that hand was unfriendly. A shiver ran down his spine, and then he glanced at Dean worriedly, wondering if he'd noticed.

To Sam's surprise, he hadn't.

"So if it's a witch," his brother went on, "we just gotta find out if they had any enemies. And if it's a ghost, we'll burn the son of a bitch. Easy peasy."

"Yeah, easy peasy."

Maybe Sam was imagining it, but as Dean kept driving he could've sworn that that hand was slowly running up his abdomen to his chest. But he still didn't mention anything.

 _It's nothing,_ he told himself. _It's just nothing._

* * *

They arrived in the small town of Windom just after sunset, the sky darkening from red and orange streaks into a midnight blue as the sun dipped below the horizon. The light of the moon shone like a haze in the sky, clouds covering it and refracting the silvery light.

The motel they checked into was called _Inn on the Creek_ , as if it was trying to pretend to be more than just some rundown motel. There was indeed a creek running by it out back, and maybe the original owner had thought there'd be some appeal in that, but it didn't take away from the cramped and poorly decorated rooms it had to offer. The hallway was done up in all different shades of dark green, and the room they'd been given wasn't much different. Sam entered the room first, groping around in the dark for the light switch. He found it, flicking it on, and the nearly inaudible hum of electricity met his ears, followed by tiny clicks as the overhead light near the center of the room turned on.

The floor was made of scuffed spruce panels, the bright color contrasting with the green rather than complementing it. The occasional small carpet was thrown in to add some color. The green of the walls was broken up by numerous pictures of lakes and mountains and rivers, the frames all varying in size, and taking up way too much wall space. To the left of the door was a small kitchenette with a counter, sink, some cabinets, a fridge, and a round table with two chairs, all of it made of spruce or a slightly darker pine. To the right was a closet and just next to it was a beaten up faux leather couch with a coffee table placed at a crooked angle. Further in were the two beds, the quilts on them blue and green plaid, bedside tables on the outer sides and a bureau in the middle, and across from them was the bathroom. A window with light panes was on the far side of the room, the forest green curtains drawn.

"Home, sweet home," Dean joked as they went in and set their bags down. "You know, I wonder if we'll ever find a nicely decorated motel room one of these days."

Sam placed his bag down on the bed closest to the window, saying, "I doubt it. Too unrealistic for our lives."

Dean nodded as if he had a point and then started unpacking. Sam began to do the same.

"So I say we get showered, see if there's any decent food around here, and then we'll talk to Audrey in the morning."

"You sure we shouldn't see if we can talk to her now?" Sam ventured, opening the top drawer in the bureau to put some of his shirts in it. "She's a nurse, so she's probably working a night shift or something."

Dean let out a disgruntled sound, as if he'd wanted the top drawer for his own clothes, but then he responded, "No way, dude. I've been driving all day. I need me some R and R. Besides, you need to unwind."

"Unwind?" Sam scoffed, turning his back on him to grab more clothes from his bag.

"Yeah, you know, have a few drinks, maybe pick up a girl."

"That's _your_ version of unwinding," Sam pointed out. "Not mine."

He turned back to his brother, who was now asking, "So you're just gonna stay here all night? Maybe read a book, listen to the soundscapes of the Pacific Northwest, have a soothing cup of tea?"

"The soundscapes of the Pacifi-" Sam began to ask, not sure where Dean had come up with that. "Look, maybe I just want a quiet night in."

He really did. After dinner it would be nice to just kick back and read a book. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd read for his own enjoyment.

"Mm hm."

"What?"

Dean walked around his bed so that he was now next to Sam, clothes over one arm. He slapped him lightly on the shoulder, a strangely calm expression on his face, the look he adopted when he was trying to hide a plan he considered clever.

"Just get in the shower. The sooner we get cleaned up the sooner we can head out. I bet there's gotta be a decent diner around here somewhere."

* * *

They didn't end up going to a diner. Dean took him to a bar that also happened to serve dinner. He'd apparently looked it up on his laptop while Sam had been in the shower. He supposed he didn't mind too much. He hadn't enjoyed a drink with Dean in quite some time. Besides, maybe alcohol would help him forget about the phantom hand that had been on him.

The place looked like the majority of the bars he'd been in: decorated in dark brown tones, the lights just bright enough to see by, the waitresses in tight outfits that would surely draw Dean's eye. The bar was decently crowded, men and women of various ages and dress sitting at booths, or high tables, or at the bar. A few burly looking guys were playing pool, seeming as if they were just getting started with their game. There was the semi-loud din of busy chatter, everyone's voices undercut by music Sam didn't recognize, but it seemed to feature a lot of acoustic guitars. It wasn't entirely unpleasant to listen to.

Dean led him over to one of the high tables, and Sam shrugged his jacket off and placed it over the back of the chair before taking a seat. He rested his hands on the table, glad that it wasn't sticky from spilled drinks like the bar seemed to be.

One of the waitresses was over in a about a minute. She was young, looking like she had just started college. They ordered their drinks: Dean, a beer, and Sam, whiskey. She gave them each a menu, and then left, Dean giving him a funny look afterwards.

"Whiskey?" he asked. "That's a little heavy for you, ain't it?"

Feeling uncomfortable that this questioning might lead somewhere, Sam held up his menu to start looking through it. "And?"

He shrugged. "You okay? Something bugging ya?"

Sam clenched his jaw, remembering the sensation of the strangely familiar hand against his skin. A chill ran down his spine.

He lowered his menu as he contemplated telling Dean, but what came out of his mouth was, "I'm fine."

"Look, Sam, I know I'm not great with the whole chick flick thing, but you can talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

His brother raised his hands, a sign that he would back off. "Alright, alright," he conceded as he opened up his own menu to look through. "But if you end up getting drunker than I do, you bet your ass there are gonna be some questions."

Sam nodded, looking away and out over the heads of the other customers as he impatiently ran his thumb over the black edge of the menu. A young woman he hadn't noticed before was over by the bar, grasping at a man's muscular forearm, her body leaning towards his. She had dark wavy hair that fell well past her shoulders, and her olive skin looked smooth and unmarred. Sam couldn't make out her eye color from where he was, but he could see the delicate cupid's bow of her lips, watched them part as she laughed. He followed her graceful movement as she brushed some of her hair over her shoulder, showcasing the curve of her neck and some of her collarbone. The white blouse she wore was low cut, but it didn't reveal too much, just enough to make things interesting. Sam's eyes roved her body. She was short, probably was even to a normal-sized person, and she was curvy without it looking like she'd achieved it through a special workout regimen and a diet. Everything about her seemed natural, save for the hint of makeup around her eyes and on her lips and cheeks. She was stunningly beautiful, someone Sam didn't feel like he could drag his eyes away from. Something about her made her even more attractive than the celebrities in movies and on TV. Hell, she was prettier than the women in the porn magazines Dean sometimes got for him. As he continued to find himself captivated by her it was almost like she began to shine, everything in the bar dimming around her, Sam's senses fading.

The man she was with began to talk and she rested her chin on one hand, her attention wandering out to the rest of the bar. The man didn't even seem to notice. Sam and the woman locked gazes, his hazel eyes widening as he realized it was truly him that she was looking at. When she smiled, showing her perfectly white teeth, something hot seemed to take root in him, its presence wonderfully irritating. Somehow he had been lucky enough to grab her attention, and she was still looking at him with that heart-stopping smile. His mouth felt dry and he forgot how to breathe, the heat in him growing, becoming a powerful urge.

The moment was over in what might have been a matter of seconds, her attention back to the man in front of her, her hand now caressing the inner part of his wrist. Without her eyes on him, the feeling began to die down a bit, but it still lived in him. Sam swallowed roughly, sorely wishing that he was the one with her.

"Sam!"

He jumped when his name was called, the person sounding irritated, as if they'd been trying to get his attention for some time, and he looked around, almost in a daze, before focusing back on Dean.

"Yeah?" he questioned, his voice sounding like it was reaching his ears through a long tunnel.

Luckily, when Dean spoke, he sounded normal, Sam's senses normalizing; "Dude, not subtle."

"What?"

"The staring?" Dean supplied. "If you're gonna stare at a woman you gotta make it subtle."

 _Who cares about subtle?_ Sam thought. He just wanted to look at her. Even now he felt the nagging urge to turn his head in her direction, and the longer he ignored it, the more incessant it became, like an itch he wasn't allowing himself to scratch.

Now Dean was searching the bar, his eyes landing on their waitress who was making her way over with their drinks. He seemed to just barely avoid biting his bottom lip, and his eyes never left her as she served them and asked them their orders. Sam had been planning on getting a salad, before he'd gotten distracted by that woman, but a quick observation showed that the salads served there were with lettuce that looked like it should've been in the trash three days ago. So he settled for what Dean had ordered: a bacon cheeseburger with curly fries. The waitress took their menus, saying their food would be out shortly, and Dean's smile was bigger than Sam's when they thanked her.

"Really? Her?" Sam asked with raised eyebrows, noticing his brother intently following her movements as she walked away, his posture completely relaxed.

At the moment he didn't particularly care who Dean hooked up with, if he would even hook up with anyone, but he thought maybe some conversation would keep him from satisfying his desire to turn his head. He was tense in his seat, probably making it obvious that he was trying hard not to look at her.

Dean's eyes flicked to Sam, and then back to the waitress again. "Sure, why not?"

Sam had already started thinking of the woman again, but Dean's words helped bring him back, yet it took a second or two to remember what they were talking about.

"She looks like she's barely out of high school," he reasoned. He knew what he had said was correct, but he struggled to pull an image of her up in his mind, like he hadn't been paying attention.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Calm down, Mr. Purity Police, I'm not looking to get in her pants. I like my partners a little more mature, experienced."

Sam shifted, still trying hard not to move his head. But he gave up, glancing to the left, hoping the woman might look his way again. To his disappointment she wasn't there. And normally, Sam would leave it at that and forget about it, but he turned in his chair, searching for her.

"Okay, who're you lookin' for?" Dean asked, somehow sounding amused and exasperated at the same time.

Sam's heartbeat sped up, the noise in the bar seeming to grow louder and more compact, as if it was merging together. Where was she? Had she left? No, she wouldn't have left, right? She must still be there. She must be. But where? _Where?_

Then Dean's question registered. He wanted to look at her too. That made something hot and nearly volatile flare up in him.

Dean shouldn't look at her. Sam had seen her first. Dean would take her out from under him, probably smiling as he did so. Sam couldn't let that happen. Sam and Sam alone was the one who had to be with her by the end of the night. He…

Sam shook his head, realizing the strange place his thoughts had gone. He faced forward again, feeling tension curl up along his spine and his legs.

"Short, white blouse, long dark hair," he described quickly before picking up his drink and taking a long sip.

The alcohol burned pleasantly going down his throat, and he found himself wanting to drain the glass. Maybe it would get rid of the strange urge he was feeling. Dean didn't seem to try too hard with searching, and after a few seconds he just shrugged and shook his head, taking another sip of beer. Sam was a little disappointed he hadn't found her, but all the same, maybe it was for the best. He didn't need to be distracted. In his line of work getting distracted could get him killed.

The night wore on and Sam ate his meal in a daze, his thoughts dragging him to warm and sensuous places. He recognized it happening, was even confused by it since he tended to be better focused than this, but it seemed as if there was nothing he could do against it. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows at one point, but he really just wanted to take his shirt off, the bar feeling too hot and stuffy, and he began to grow annoyed with everyone else in it. He wanted them all gone, wanted himself and that woman to be the only ones left.

Somehow he seemed to manage to keep up with Dean's conversation. He was talking about their upcoming annual trip to Vegas and what he hoped they'd get to do this time, bringing up past memories of things he wanted to do again. Vegas seemed too far away, too unimportant. He really just wanted his brother to shut up. His low voice seemed to grate against his skin, rubbing against him in the wrong way. It was enough to make him have to clench his teeth to keep from voicing his irritation.

They stayed after they finished eating, Sam ordering more whiskey and having a few bottles of beer, Dean grinning excitedly at the prospect that for once Sam was enjoying himself in the way he thought he should. But really, he wanted to get rid of the tension that had seeped beneath his skin, down into his muscles, and maybe even to his bones. It took everything he had to not have his eyes dart around in search of that woman. Just refraining from doing so seemed to become painful as the night drew on.

Sam knew he and Dean should really start heading out since they had work to do in the morning, but he didn't want to move. He wanted to stay, hoping that he'd see her one more time. He at least needed that.

After a certain point there was a buzzing in his ears and he saw Dean's mouth moving, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. Sam had lost count of how many drinks he'd had. Maybe he was drunk. That thought didn't do anything against his urge to suddenly start shouting at Dean, hoping he'd leave him the hell alone. He was tired of pretending that he still wanted to be spending time with him. He was tired of everyone around him and so fed up with their laughter and their talking and their moving around and their _existing_.

Then, he spotted her, his breath catching in his throat. She stood out amongst the humid, dense haze in his mind like a breath of fresh air. She fully turned herself towards Sam as she leaned against a table in a way that made her right hip jut out and drew attention to her perfectly sized breasts. He could feel her eyes on him, feel it in the way his skin tingled, and it was like the tension in his muscles was drained out of him as she clearly looked him up and down. She inhaled deeply, giving him a small smile as if she was pleased with what she saw. Then, she met his eyes. Sam's mouth dropped open with desire, and he was once again surprised that he was worthy of her attention. She crooked her finger, beckoning him. Before he could really register that she turned around and was leaving the bar out the back entrance.

Sam rose as soon as the door closed.

He heard Dean say something, grabbing his arm as he started walking past him. He shrugged out of his grip without turning towards him, and maybe he said something back. He nearly stumbled out of the bar, shoving his way past the people in his way rather than walking around them. There might've been some enraged shouts, but the buzzing had turned to a furious pounding. The few seconds it took him to get outside seemed too long and he could hear blood rushing in his ears, but then he was on the other side of the door, away from everyone else and all their irritating noise. His breath misted in the air as he caught sight of her, standing just at the edge of the light on the outside of the building.

Relief washed through Sam so strongly he thought he might collapse, and then she was against him, pressing him back against the wall just beside the door. Her body was pleasantly warm, making Sam forget the cold air, and the softness of her made him not mind the rough brick digging into his back. She smelled like vanilla and something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it was pleasant, sensual, even.

"Hello," she said softly, running her fingers playfully up and down his chest. Her voice was somewhat lower than he'd imagined, but just hearing her speak just about made his knees give out.

"H-hello."

"I noticed you staring at me." His face flushed, and she went on, "Oh, don't be embarrassed. I'm flattered I even managed to catch your eye…" She trailed off, seeming like she wanted to say his name, but she didn't know what it was.

"Sam," he supplied quickly.

"Sam," she tried out, before repeating it in a breathy tone that made him shudder. No one had ever made his name sound so wonderful.

Despite all his distractions he made an attempt at getting the conversation back on track: "It'd be impossible to not notice you. You're so beautiful."

The words sounded stupid leaving his mouth, but he hadn't known what else to say. It was the truth, and at the moment he was too stunned by this turn of events for him to put enough thoughts together to say something more seductive. Thankfully, she didn't seem to care.

"And you are just…" - she ran her hand over him with more force and Sam really wished his shirt was off - " _delicious_."

Her other hand made its way into his hair and she stood on her tiptoes as she pulled him down to meet her. A silver arc of pleasure seemed to go from his lips down in between his legs when they touched, and he groaned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He kissed her back earnestly, and her lips were even softer and more pliant than he'd imagined. As she arched her body into him, her motions speaking of desperation, Sam really began to hate whoever had invented clothing.

The kiss lasted for a few long and delightful seconds, and then she started to pull away. He chased her lips hungrily, one kiss not being enough. But she pulled at his hair, as if she was trying to hold him back, and through his wanton haze he realized he should stop. He did, but his lips remained parted, his eyes closed, as he tried to catch his breath. Her tongue traced his lips, and tingling heat shot through Sam's spine and curled through his gut. When her tongue delved into his mouth he found himself opening it wider. Usually he preferred it the other way around, where his partner was the one pressed against the wall and his tongue was in her mouth, but this felt right too. He was ready to give her everything she wanted. If she told him to strip right then and there and let her ride him he'd do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked. Their lips met again, and Sam felt like he was starving, primal energy thrumming through his body.

He didn't even freak out when she put a hand around his neck and cut off his air supply. Sam enjoyed the feeling of lightheadedness, enjoyed the way she was so clearly taking control of the situation. Just when it felt like his lungs were starting to pound she lightened her touch and moved her hand down to undo the top button on his shirt, as if she was teasing him with what could be. Sam kept his hands at her waist, not sure if she would be uncomfortable with him touching her anywhere else, though he wanted to. He wanted to feel all of her body, and he wanted her to feel all of his.

She pulled away from him, letting him gasp for breath, his chest heaving. Then they were kissing again, roughly, and Sam couldn't get enough. This time he placed a hand in her soft hair, the other one flat against her back to keep her with him. He groaned when she bit his bottom lip, working it between her teeth and making it swell. Even that felt good enough to nearly have him shuddering. When she pulled away Sam still had his mouth open, maybe hoping she would put her tongue in it again. But for now, she did nothing, and he ran his hand through her hair before letting it rest above his other one against her back. He opened his eyes and gazed at her longingly, waiting for what she would do next. It wasn't really like him to let his partners take charge like this, but with her he felt like he had to surrender, like what she wanted was all that mattered. God, she was gorgeous, gorgeous enough to make him forgot everything outside of this moment.

Sam felt faint when she gave him a sultry smile, her eyes - the color of which he couldn't quite make out in the dim light - filled with lust. His stomach quivered when she yanked on his hair, drawing his head back, and then she brought her wonderful mouth to his neck, letting out a moan of desire. Raw, untamable pleasure shot through him till he was hardening so rapidly it nearly hurt, and he brought his hands to her hips, needing to hold onto something, anything, because he could barely stand it. In a matter of seconds he was sure he was harder than he'd ever been. She kissed and sucked along his throat, and a hungry sound left her just before she got her teeth involved. Her bites weren't that hard, just hard enough to leave him wanting more. When she licked the hollow of his throat he hissed in a breath and pulled her right up against him as he arched his hips forward, hoping she'd be pleased with how his body was reacting. Both her hands traveled down him slowly, and she drew her mouth away. Sam missed her lips on him, but that soon didn't matter because she pushed him fully against the wall once more before she began groping him over his jeans.

He groaned, looking down at her, curious as to where her gaze was. Their eyes met, and with enough focus he realized that her eyes were a shade of brown that made him think of dark chocolate.

"You're eager," she commented, her voice seeming even more pleasing to listen to now that he was turned on.

Sam tried to come up with anything sexy to say, but then she began to undo the button and zipper on his jeans and his brain turned to mush.

"P-please," was all he got out, not even sure what he was asking for. He just wanted her, wanted her on top of him, wanted her to use his body till he couldn't take it anymore, till any sensation hurt and then some.

He ran his hands over her, her back, her sides, her shoulders, her arms, hoping his touch would please her and urge her on. And if she asked him to he'd do a lot more with his hands.

She kept her gaze locked on his as she lowered his jeans and boxers just enough to free him. It was such a relief that he gasped, and then he couldn't even breathe because she was touching him, tugging and stroking confidently with both hands. He took hold of her wrists, his fingers shaking as he tried to not tighten his grip and impede her movements.

The silvery, electric pleasure flooded his nearly aching cock, the sensations so intense they went up into his stomach.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, growling his pleasure into the cool night air. He moved his hands back down to her waist, letting himself hold on as much as he needed to. He wondered if he was hurting her, if he would leave bruises, but she didn't say anything or seem to show any signs of being in pain.

"Look at you," she breathed, seeming impressed. "So big. And all hard just for me."

Her words seemed to echo in his head, and they made him want to show her the rest of his body in the hopes that she would like it, made him want to give himself over to her and give her the part of himself that he could.

She kept at it, as if she was enjoying what she was doing to him, enjoying the power she had. Sam was already starting to sweat, his body surely heating up, his hips canting up into her hands.

"Sam, let go of me and hold still," she instructed, her tone soft despite her commanding words.

Sam took his hands off her as if he hadn't even had a choice, and with the way she'd said his name he hadn't had much of one really. With that sweet voice of hers he'd do anything she wanted him to. He pressed his hands flat against the cold, rough wall, his nails painfully scraping against it as he sought for something to anchor himself with. It was more difficult to keep his hips steady, but he managed.

She lightened her touch tremendously, the different feelings it granted him with making him twitch and throb. And then he sensed her moving, and he opened his eyes curiously. Desire thrummed through him so violently it was nearly painful when he saw she was getting on her knees, her gaze resting intently on his cock.

She licked the underside of the head, and a jolt shot through him, from his toes, all the way up his legs, into his balls which were tight and already heavy against his body, and then through his fattened cock. Instantly she licked up the precum that spilled free, and then she took the head fully into her mouth, actually causing Sam to cry out.

All rational thought left him in that moment. There was just his cock and how badly he desired to have her let all of him into her warm and wet throat. She expertly worked the base of him and played with his balls as she managed to take more of him into her mouth. God, her saliva was enough to make him burn, his cock spitting even more precum. He cried out when she began to suck him, and with one hand she squeezed his balls with more pressure than he had thought he was able to handle. He was surprised he hadn't yet collapsed from the sensations. Sharp, exquisite pleasure twanged through him, and Sam recognized what had just happened. Her teeth had grazed his agonizingly sensitive flesh. And it'd actually felt good. When any of his previous partners had accidently done that to him he'd always had to pull away and wait for the bit of pain to pass before he was okay again. But now it made him have to try extra hard to not thrust forwards. He surprised himself when a whimper left him.

She took in more of him, not stopping. Sam's chest heaved as his heated cock continued making its way past her soft lips. The process was slow, but she kept at it, somehow giving him the impression that she wanted to eat him. After what must have been a great amount of effort, every inch of his cock was in her, her nose flush against his pelvis, her soft exhales whispering and tingling across his heated skin. Her hands were on his hips now, holding him against the wall, her nails digging into him. Sam let out a throaty moan, his sole focus on how good her mouth and throat felt. And then she slowly drew back, till just the head was in her mouth. Just as he was about to break her rule and thrust forward, she began to take him in again. He shivered, but forced himself to lay his hands flat out against the wall. If he tried to hold on or scraped at it like he really wanted to he'd surely bleed. Sam opened his eyes, moaning as he watched. She was even more beautiful with his cock in her mouth. She sucked as if this was all she needed at the moment, as if his cock was hers, as if he belonged to her. Sam didn't mind one bit. He'd even volunteer to be her slave.

She was slow about this part, letting every bit of pleasure seep into his very being. He could feel tension building in all of his muscles, fueled by raging desire and wet, fiery touches. He ached from how hard he was, his balls swelling even more, and Sam wanted to cry from how overwhelming this was, from how phenomenal it felt. It was unreal. He didn't know how long she did that, but it felt like forever and yet not long enough.

She did pull him fully out of her mouth eventually, and set herself to the task of licking him all over, Sam's gravelly voice leaving him with each burning swipe of her tongue. He wanted to stay in that unbearably pleasurable moment forever, and he tensed up, panicking when he felt himself nearing his end.

She kissed and licked at his slit, making him growl, before telling him, "It's okay, Sam. Just let go. I want as much as you can give me."

Hearing that she wanted him to cum quelled the panic in him, and he was too far gone to wonder how she knew he was close.

Sam was given no warning before she began to pump him fiercely, as if she could tear his orgasm out of him, and he cried out, thrusting his hips forward. All the while she flicked the underside of the thick head with that exquisite tongue of hers, beckoning and urging, shuddering trails of fiery pleasure flaring through his cock. The tension within him built and built and he might've actually started crying; he couldn't be sure. And then white hot pleasure screamed and raged through him in violent bursts, and with each one he could feel himself emptying. Sam didn't need to keep his eyes open to guess if she was swallowing his cum. She'd wrapped her lips firmly around him as he throbbed and twitched in her grip, and she _sucked_ , as if this was what she truly wanted from him. It lasted only a few seconds, but Sam felt drained, his body limp against the wall, and she was no longer touching him. Sam was gasping and panting, opening his eyes to look down at her in wonder as she got to her feet.

Before he even thought do so, she tucked him back into his pants, pulled them up around his hips once more, and zipped and buttoned them. She patted his pelvis fondly, a smile on her slightly reddened lips.

"I hope we meet again," she told him.

And then she walked back into the bar like nothing had even happened.

Sam waited out in the cold air, trying to fully calm down and make sense of everything. Thinking was a chore since part of his brain was busy carelessly skipping through a field of flowers singing love songs, but he fought through it, getting back on track.

He'd just gotten a blowjob from a stranger behind a bar. He was pretty sure Dean hadn't even had that happen to him.

Oh god, Dean! How long had he been gone? What would he be thinking?

Sam checked his watch, the time reading 2:24 AM, but that didn't mean anything to him since he didn't know when he'd left the bar. He hadn't been aware of much when he'd followed that woman out here.

Why had he done that? What had come over him?

Now that Sam was coming back to himself he realized that something about that didn't feel right. That had been so unlike him, and sure, maybe he was a bit drunk, but the hyperfocus he'd had on the woman even before having a few drinks didn't add up. He swallowed roughly, anxiety curling his stomach. But still, he felt… happy, satisfied, those emotions fighting with the sense that something was wrong, trying to rise above everything else. And if he began to let his mind wander too much it drew back to her and every delicious touch. Sam shook his head, forcing his thoughts away from her. Dean. Dean was probably wondering where he was.

It wasn't till he straightened himself up that he realized how tired he felt. He was tired in the way he would be if he'd just had sex, or if he had two sessions back to back. There was no way a blowjob that he hadn't even actively participated in could exhaust him so much.

For now, Sam decided to add it onto the list of things that had happened to him recently that didn't make sense. And besides, he found it difficult to focus on when he still felt so good. Maybe the oddities of their meeting didn't matter. Why would it matter? He felt better than he'd ever remembered feeling, and he almost didn't want to let it go. But still, that tension was closing in around his chest: a warning. Sam took in a deep breath and he thought he could still smell the woman's warm scent.

Still blissfully unaware of the low temperature outside, he took his time running his hands through his hair, fixing his shirt and readjusting his jeans. Then he went back into the bar.

To his surprise, Dean turned to face him when he came back in, and he found himself blushing.

"Where the hell were you?" he asked as Sam walked past him.

"Nowhere," Sam answered as he put his jacket on, having to really force himself to not smile as his brain decided it liked the field of flowers and love songs a lot more than rational thought.

"What do you mean _nowhere_?" he growled out. "You were gone for nearly twenty minutes."

Usually Sam would get fed up with Dean talking to him like this, acting like he couldn't take care of himself, but the weird euphoria he felt overrode that.

"Huh, didn't notice."

"You didn't-" Dean began, and then cut himself off. All anger left him, and he stated, "You went and had yourself a little fun." His brother laughed, something about Sam's expression apparently telling him he was correct. He dropped some money on the table before getting up. "So how was she?" he questioned as he put his jacket on.

Sam opened his mouth, trying to make his tongue and lips work in the proper way to say, _something's wrong_ , but all that came out was, "Amazing." He now found himself grinning.

As they began to leave he asked, "Was this the woman you were staring at earlier?"

"Oh yeah," he answered, nodding emphatically. "She was _really_ good, like, really, really good."

His voice sounded funny to him, and already his head was back to a few minutes ago, pleasure humming through him. And he couldn't stop smiling, not even when the joy he felt began to strangle the lurking shadow of fear. His exhaustion joined in, and the two killed it together. Not even the bite of the early spring air was enough to bring it back.

"So how far did ya get?" Dean asked. "Second base? Third base?" When Sam said nothing, just continued smiling, he went on, "Don't tell me you got to fourth base."

"Third," he answered cheerfully as they started getting into the Impala. "And, dude, she was so hot. I'm talking, like, I don't know, Aphrodite level hot."

"Okay, yeah, you're drunk."

"Maybe." He grabbed Dean once he closed the door, feeling as if he had to get him to understand just how amazing that woman had been. "But I don't care, 'cause she was just _so good_ , and so… perfect. I want to see her again."

His brother studied his face, frowning at him.

"Sam, are you high?"

He emphatically shook his head, and Dean shrugged out of his grip, before putting his keys into the ignition and starting the car, the engine purring.

"Well you look high."

"I'm not."

"And you kinda sound like you're high," his brother added, almost as if Sam hadn't spoken.

"So, what, I'm not allowed to be happy?" he shot at him, not even sure why those words had left his mouth. He hoped Dean didn't take the opening to argue with him. He was too tired for that. But at least it wouldn't ruin his good mood. He didn't think anything could do that.

"No, no. I didn't say that. But seriously, if you saw the size of your pupils you'd be thinking the same thing."

"Maybe you should see the size of your pupils," he argued before realizing that didn't make any sense.

He didn't care. He just kept thinking about that woman.

Dean glanced at him worriedly, but didn't say anything.

Sam's mood declined on the way back to the motel, until exhaustion took over and he could barely keep his eyes open.

He was beyond thankful when they were in their motel room. Sam changed, not entirely sure how he summoned the energy to do so. Then fell onto his bed, the frame creaking beneath him, and he quickly decided that finding a way to get under the covers was much too difficult. Sleep found him in a matter of seconds.

* * *

A bright flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder that rattled Sam's teeth dragged him from his deep slumber. Goosebumps covered his skin, and he was shivering violently. He felt naked, exposed, but when he tried to look down at his body, which was lying flat against something hard and uncomfortable, he choked, a heavy metal collar pulling at his neck. His heart racing fiercely, he tried moving, only to have similar results. There were metal shackles around his wrists and ankles.

He squinted his eyes, trying to see through the darkness around him, but he saw nothing. Even as he breathed he could imagine the way his breath misted the air. He was just so cold. He wished that he could at least have even a stitch of clothing on him to warm him up some. But that didn't seem forthcoming. Besides, he was breathing too quickly to even speak and make a request, if anyone was even there. But someone was. The way his hair stood on end alerted him to that.

Lightning flashed somewhere, he was sure of it, saw a bolt of light, heard the thunder. In less than a second it was gone, leaving a distorted purple bar in his vision.

"Damn it. Can't have you waking up," a voice said, a voice that he couldn't make sense of, but it sounded familiar.

There were hands on his head, and Sam let out a shout, trying to wrench himself from the person's grip, but he couldn't, the metal collar helping to hold him in place. If he moved his head and neck too far in one direction it was like he was being strangled.

There was a ringing in his ears, and the sound grew till he had to scream because it felt like his head was seconds away from exploding. And the ringing just wouldn't let up. It was beautiful, and horrific all at once, stabbing his ear drums till he was bleeding, and then it was like the inside of his head was vibrating, something volatile making its way through his ears into his brain.

The sound ceased, but now, Sam couldn't hear anything. Paired with the darkness all around him this lack of hearing made him start to panic, his body shivering from that now too. He might've been gasping or maybe even crying out. He couldn't be sure. The hands left his head, hands that he was sure he knew but couldn't place a name or a face to.

Then, something entered his arm, a needle, he thought. His body instantly tensed from the surprising sensation. It just pinched at first, but then it went deeper and deeper till he was sore, and then till he felt like he couldn't take it, and then it kept on going, dragging him past his pain threshold. Perhaps with more time, more mental preparation, he would've been able to deal with it, but all of this was happening so suddenly, and it felt like the needle had reached to his bone. Sam grit his teeth against the pain, bracing himself to weather through this. He could do it. He could! And that confidence stayed until his arm started burning, and then that burning was steadily moving throughout his body, down to his wrist, and up into his shoulder. Then into his fingers, and his neck, and his chest, and his face, till it had taken over his entire torso, spreading steadily into the other arm and down into his legs, and feet.

Fire. His blood was on fire.

Sam knew he was screaming then, couldn't keep his voice from making its way past his lips. With each second the raging and burning inside of him grew worse, till he started contemplating why he hadn't just melted away or turned into ash.

The darkness meant nothing. His lack of hearing meant nothing. There was no longer the table beneath him, or the metal around his wrists, ankles, and neck. There was just that all-consuming fire.

The vicious pounding and vibrating in his head from earlier returned, making him scream till his lungs started to hurt.

* * *

Sam started awake, sweat coating his skin, and his heart was beating wildly. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. The motel room. He was in the motel room.

Dean was snoring in the bed beside him, a sound that sometimes annoyed him, but now, he found it comforting. It meant that he was safe, that he was with his brother.

As he caught his breath, his nightmare replayed through his head: the darkness, the metal, the fire, the voice. And then what had transpired earlier in the night started going through his mind as well: the bar, that woman, how good she'd made him feel, how he'd been in a haze and solely focused on her. It didn't make sense. Just like the hands he'd felt on him in the Impala - none of it made sense.

Once Sam was breathing easily, he laid back down, hoping maybe he could get some more sleep. But he doubted that would happen, and he'd have to go through yet another day with exhaustion dragging at him. But maybe with another day he could figure all of this out.

* * *

 **A/N: Not sure how many of you noticed, but the "soundscapes of the Pacific Northwest" comment from Dean was a reference to the hilarious video, directed by Misha Collins, which is, Behind the Scenes of Supernatural: A Fan's Perspective. It can be found on Misha's YouTube channel. Give it a watch if you need a good laugh.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Just so you guys know, this story doesn't have a happy ending, so if you're gonna be in it for the whole story, keep that in mind.**

* * *

The next day after breakfast, Sam and Dean went to the hospital under the guise of FBI agents to talk to Audrey Miller. Sam had already pulled up her schedule and knew that she would be there. He was glad of that. They'd started their day much later than Sam has wanted to, and moving, or getting moving, felt difficult. He hadn't been able to get any sleep after his nightmare, and he felt as if he hadn't properly recharged after his uh... meeting behind the bar, which he still hadn't entirely figured out. He had a bit of a hangover too, which made him regret how much he'd had to drink last night, but it wasn't the worst one he'd had. Dean had seemed worse off than him when they were at breakfast, wearing sunglasses even though they were indoors. Now he hoped it wasn't obvious they'd been drinking half the night.

Windom General Hospital, though small, was like any other hospital Sam had been to. It was decorated in white and other bright colors that he'd come to associate with the smell of antiseptic. It was busy, nurses and doctors bustling about, going in and out of rooms, patients being wheeled down the halls in gurneys or wheelchairs. They went through the front entrance to the main desk, and where they stood they were close to the emergency room doors. Through the windows Sam saw ambulances just pulling up, their lights still flashing, and some of the patients in the waiting room seemed to be bloodied or were nursing limbs that might've been broken. It seemed _too_ busy for such a small town. He began wondering what had happened, and when a patient got wheeled by who had a shard of glass sticking out of their forearm, some of their blood decorating it, Sam realized that he was seeing victims of a pretty serious car accident. He put it out of his mind, showing his fake badge to the receptionist when asked about who he was. After a quick conversation, he and Dean were directed to some seats in a hallway that wasn't as busy and were told that Audrey Miller would be with them as soon as possible.

They had to wait awhile, and in that time, Dean had started teasing him about last night, which bothered Sam for some reason.

"Agents Tyler and Perry?"

Sam's heart stopped. He knew that voice.

Looking up he saw the face of the woman he'd been with last night, and she was addressing them. The nametag on her blue scrubs unmistakably read _Nurse Audrey Miller_. That same feeling from the night before started to come over him, but he did his best to push it aside. The heat that started pumping through him was something that didn't make sense, something he couldn't rationalize, especially since it was so instantaneous. Based on Dean's wide smile that he only plastered on his face after he seemed to swallow roughly, he was having a similar issue.

"Nurse Miller," Sam addressed, standing to shake her hand, hating that his voice came out lower than he'd intended.

When their hands touched a spark seemed to go through him. She held his hand a little too long, her warm gaze seeming to go right through his clothes, and then the moment was over. She was shaking hands with Dean.

"Please, call me Audrey."

Another nurse had to walk behind her, and she stepped forward to give them some room, putting her uncomfortably, or maybe too comfortably, close to Sam.

"So what's this about?" she questioned, crossing her arms and lifting her head up, making her hair, which was in a ponytail, fall back over her shoulder. "Last I checked I haven't been naughty."

She gave Sam a secretive look at that, and he opened his mouth to say something, but found that words wouldn't come to him.

"No, no," Dean assured. "We just want to talk to you about your friends who passed recently, Amy and David King."

Was it just Sam's imagination or was his brother's voice gruffer than usual? He didn't like it.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath as if she had to hold back emotions that had suddenly welled up.

"What do you need to know?" she asked.

Sam realized that the hallway was getting busier as more patients were starting to be seen to, so he asked, "Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

"Of course."

She led them down the hall to a staff room, which she claimed would be empty given how busy they were. There were gray counters and cabinets, one of the counters with a coffee machine on it, and the same plastic chairs that had been out in the hallways were around an oval table. A cream colored couch was pushed against the wall to the left of them. Instead of taking a seat in one of the chairs haphazardly positioned at the table, she leaned back against it, crossing her arms. Sam licked his lips, having the sudden urge to pick her up and slam her down onto that table, his mouth meeting hers.

The thought left him when she said, "Okay, agents, let's make this quick, I have patients to tend to."

"Right," Sam started, "so when you found them, was there anything unusual that you noticed? Flickering lights, cold spots, any odd smells?"

She frowned. "What kind of questions are those?"

Dean cleared his throat before responding, "They're just routine."

"The only _unusual_ thing is that they're dead with no signs of violence," she snapped. "I don't know what you think is going on here, but healthy people their age don't just die."

"That's why we're here," Sam tried to assure her. "Since they didn't die of natural causes, we think-"

"That it was murder?"

Dean answered before Sam could: "Something like that."

Sam leaned closer to her, taking a half a step forward. He breathed in deeply as if he could smell her even at that distance. A memory of last night came to him, her scent filling his nose as she eagerly pressed her lips against his.

"Did they have any enemies?" Sam questioned, fighting through what was now trying to consume his mind. "Anyone who might've wanted to hurt them?"

Audrey frowned, shaking her head.

"They both grew up here. I've known them forever. Amy and David were kind people. As far as I know, everyone liked them." Audrey smiled sadly, her eyes welling up with tears before she went on in a shaky voice, "It was impossible not too really. They were the kinds of people who always had a smile on their face, you know?"

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes, and Sam just wanted to wrap her in his arms, and kiss her in the hopes that it would make her feel better. Other ideas of how to make her feel better started coming to him, and just like last night he felt too hot and wished he could just take his clothes off. Part of him was shocked by the urges that sprang up in him. He recognized that he was usually sympathetic with the people he spoke to, but this was different, unnatural. The rational part of him that was freaked out by it all was quiet, and most of him just hated seeing someone who was so beautiful on the verge of tears.

Before he could act on any of his urges, Dean had gotten closer to her and had a hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. Sam nearly growled at him for touching her.

When neither he or Dean said anything she asked, "Is that all? I really have to get back to work."

"Uh, yeah. That's all," Sam got out, his voice not seeming like his own.

He moved to grab his card out of his jacket, the action difficult, like he was moving through mud, but he managed, and as he handed it to her he placed his hand over hers when she took hold of it. Once again, physical contact with her led to some sort of sensation traveling through his hand, a tiny arc of pleasure. Just from that he swore he could feel his body temperature rising.

Sam probably held on for too long without saying anything, but she didn't seem to mind. "Just give me a call if you end up remembering anything odd," he eventually said. "It would really help."

She nodded again, and then withdrew her hand, taking the card and putting it in her pocket.

Audrey left the staff room, and Sam reluctantly watched her go, wanting to grab her and pull her close, maybe even hold her against the wall. When the door closed it was as if Sam was jolted back to himself. He shook his head, just now realizing the tension that had fallen over him once more. It hadn't been nearly as powerful as last night, but still effective. It was almost like he'd been under some sort of psychic attack. Well, not an attack. An attack surely wouldn't feel so pleasant, but something had to be messing with his head.

He didn't get it, was sure in his line of work he'd never come across anything like this before. But the psychic… whatever it was, seemed to be centered around Audrey. Was she human? Did she have anything to do with the death of her friends?

"Not sure there's a case here," Dean said, sitting himself down on the table.

"What, now you don't feel like investigating the couple who screwed each other to death?" Sam teased.

"Sam, we got nothing," Dean reasoned. "Sure, there are two dead people with no clear sign as to what did it, but that's it. Audrey didn't notice anything, the police didn't notice anything. And as far as we know, Mr. and Mrs. King didn't have any enemies."

Sam let out a huff before arguing, "Look, like Audrey said, people don't just die like that."

He shrugged. "It's happened before."

"Yeah, when? We've seen this kind of stuff with witches, or, I don't know, reapers. So let's do some digging, see what we can find."

Dean sighed. "Fine. But I'm doing it for the nurse."

"What?"

"Dude, did you _see her_? I so need to hit that."

Sam was about to tell him to back off, when suddenly a sharp pain took over his abdomen. He fell to his knees with a grunt, holding an arm to his stomach. The sharpness of it turned into soreness and seemed to burrow deeper and deeper, till he ached. He gasped as it felt like something was torn from him, and then he found it hard to breathe.

He desperately grabbed onto Dean's leg, not sure why his brother wasn't already down at his side to help him.

"D-Dean…" he got out.

He cried out and then glanced up at his brother.

"How can someone be so gorgeous?" he asked, as if Sam wasn't on the floor in excruciating pain.

"Dean, something's wrong."

"Seriously, if I don't get in between her legs before we have to go it's gonna haunt me the rest of my life."

It felt like something else was torn from him, and he expected the hot splatter of blood, expected its liquid heat to be running down his skin as his insides were ripped from him, expected to have the iron-like taste in his mouth. Tears were making their way down his face now, and he grasped at Dean's leg desperately, wishing that this would end, wishing that his brother was comforting him. Why was Dean acting like nothing was wrong?

In a few seconds it passed, the pain subsiding completely, and Sam found himself gasping, clutching at his stomach, expecting to find a gaping wound there. But there wasn't one. And he was okay.

"Hell, I'll stay even if there isn't a case here. I'll stay as long as it takes to get with her."

Sam got to his feet, just about shouting as he wiped his tears away, "What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?"

His brother jumped at his tone. "What? She's hot!"

"I'm not talking about her," Sam growled out. "I'm talking about whatever just happened to me."

"What?"

"I… I was on the floor! In pain!"

His brother gave him a disbelieving look. "No you weren't. You were standing right there," - he pointed to where Sam had been standing before he collapsed - "rolling your eyes at me as I ran my mouth."

"W-what? That's… That's not what…"

Dean started looking at him as if he might need a visit to the mental hospital, so Sam shut up.

As they left the hospital, he tried to put the incident out of his mind, just as he had his nightmare.

* * *

Because of the car accident that had happened earlier, traffic was insanely backed up, so despite the small size of the town it took what seemed like forever to get back to the motel and change. It was already past 11:30 by the time they were back in their regular clothes. Then they both decided to get an early lunch at a diner they'd spotted a few blocks from the hospital.

During lunch Sam tried to think over the case, and also what was wrong with him. There was undoubtedly something wrong with him. People didn't just collapse in pain for no reason. Maybe it was connected to his nightmare. And, a more sinister thought entered his head, one that made him lose his appetite - what if both incidents were connected to the hand he'd felt on him the day before? He wasn't sure how it could be connected or why he was the target of this strange and evil thing. It had been a few days since their last hunt, which had only been a ghoul, so what was happening couldn't possibly be any residual effects from anything recent. He contemplated witchcraft, but he'd already searched the motel room and the Impala that morning before breakfast while Dean was in the shower, and he hadn't found any hex bags. So what could it be?

And was it connected to how he felt around Audrey? Was she possibly doing this to him?

No, that didn't make sense. This had started before he'd met her, but there was no denying that something was off about her. Just thinking about her summoned up a bunch of primal thoughts born of wanton craving and need. No, not need. It was just a stupid want. He didn't _need_ her, though he felt like he did. It wasn't as strong as last night, but the craving to touch her, to be touched by her was there once again.

Those incidents with Audrey felt different from what else he'd gone through, so that meant that Sam was dealing with two separate things: the case, and his own terrifying personal issues. Or if Audrey _wasn't_ connected to the case other than as a witness, then that meant there were three things he was dealing with.

But his instinct told him that she had something to do with it, though he couldn't figure out how. Maybe Audrey had something to do with the couple's and their unborn child's deaths. Although, Audrey hadn't mentioned the child. It was possible she hadn't known, it hadn't been in the newspaper, so it was only something in the autopsy records and ths police report, and her friends might not have told her. He supposed that didn't matter. There was Audrey, and she'd found their bodies. If she had been there when the Kings had died, then it'd be hard to tell since the police had a reason for why her footprints would be at the crime scene, or even some of her DNA. No other DNA but the Kings' had been found on their bodies, and dusting for fingerprints hadn't shown anything either. It was too clean, but still, people were dead, and Sam didn't know how. It'd been clear that the Kings had died just after having sex, their bodies so full of hormones they would've been high, and he remembered Dean's remarks about him being high last night. Had he been high? If he had been, it would've been from his time with Audrey. That was the only thing that seemed to make sense. Which led him to thinking that Audrey could be what they were after.

But if she was the killer, then why wasn't Sam dead?

He jumped in his seat at the counter and was startled from his thoughts when he felt a hand trail down his back, perfectly following the curve of his spine. Then another hand was on him, sensually grabbing his right hip.

To his surprise, Dean didn't react. Or maybe it wasn't surprising. He hadn't done anything earlier when Sam had collapsed.

He clenched his jaw as the hands ran over him, somehow feeling him underneath his clothes. They were the same ones from yesterday, maybe even the same that had held his head in the nightmare, though that was a stretch since he couldn't entirely remember it now. They didn't seem to have a plan as to where to touch him. The touches were desperate, the hands seeming like they were trying to get at as much of his skin as possible. Sam was glad he had lost his appetite earlier and hadn't eaten much because now he was nauseous.

Beginning to feel light-headed as his stomach continued to churn, he pushed his plate away and focused on the bright red counter in front of him.

 _Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

 _No, can't panic. Can't panic. You'll be fine, you'll be fine, you'll be fine._

He took deep breaths, trying to console himself, but still those damn hands were on him, even touching his ass without a hint of shyness. The violating sensations made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

 _Come on, Sam!_ he angrily thought. _You're imagining this! It isn't real._

But it _felt_ real, and then it started to feel good too.

He gripped the edge of the counter tightly, his vision tunneling.

Just when he thought he was about to shout, Dean lightly whacked him on the arm. "Hey, you up for doing some research?"

And just like that the hands vanished. Sam shivered in their absence, still not feeling right. He'd just been _touched_ , and nearly everywhere. The only place the hands had avoided was in between his legs. Any other part of him had been fair game.

 _But they're not touching you now,_ he told himself. _It's okay. You're okay._

He took in a deep breath, straightening in his seat and stretching out his limbs as much as he could, trying to ease the tension from them.

"Yeah, I can do research," he said. "But I don't know of what exactly. I'm not sure this is anything we've dealt with before."

Dean put a fry in his mouth, chewed for a bit and then told him, "Still, it'd probably be a good idea to hit the books. I'm gonna check out the crime scene, and I can call you if I find anything. Hopefully something turns up. We need some freakin' clues as to what this thing is."

That plan did sound reasonable, so Sam agreed. Though, he didn't much want to be in a motel room all by himself, not when he could feel those hands on him or more pain at any second. Or maybe it was over. At least, for now.

He was angry with himself for being frightened. It wasn't important now. He had a job to do, and he'd be damned if he didn't do it.

* * *

After Dean dropped Sam off at the motel he started just looking up things online, but he wasn't finding anything. He tried looking up any cases that were similar, but those had all been closed without any suspects, saying it'd just been a medical anomaly. Sam then tried the medical angle, but he came up dry. Absolutely nothing.

About fifteen minutes of this and his phone started ringing. He checked the screen, saw that it was Dean, and picked up.

"Dean, what's up?"

"Sammy."

A shiver ran through Sam. That hadn't been Dean's voice. He was absolutely sure of it. It wasn't as low, wasn't as gruff, and Dean would never say his nickname in that tone. It was a tone that he couldn't help placing with the hands that had been on his body.

He sat up, clenching his jaw and then he asked, "Who is this?"

There was no answer. He couldn't even hear breathing on the other end.

Realizing staying on the phone wasn't going to get him anywhere, Sam hung up. And then he instantly called Dean, or called him back, or whatever the hell was going on.

"Hey, Sam, what's up?"

"Did you just call me?" he asked.

"No."

"I got a call from you."

A sigh. "Dude, I swear, it wasn't from me."

Sam swallowed roughly as he debated whether he should tell Dean about what had just happened. It was nothing. Right? But it'd made him… uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. And if it wasn't Dean, then who was it? Why had the caller ID been Dean's? None of it made any sense.

"Well, then, _someone_ called me," Sam explained. "They… They said my name. Well, not my name. They called me Sammy. Didn't say anything else."

There was no answer from Dean's end.

"Hello?" Sam questioned. "Dude, you still there?"

There was still only silence from the other end, and his stomach dropped.

"Dean?"

"I found some sulfur," he eventually said, his tone suggesting they'd been discussing this all along.

Sam was about to try and restart the other discussion again, but then what Dean said hit him. Sulfur. Demons.

Things seemed to start falling into place.

Dean continued talking, Sam only half listening, and now he was on his laptop, typing _incubi_ into the search bar.

It all made sense. Demons, the couple dying after what must've been a lot of sex. It had to be an incubus, or a succubus, he supposed, or maybe there was more than one.

Suddenly, Dean's voice cut off and there was a loud sound from the other end that made him have to pull the phone away from his ear for a quick second. It had been a clattering, scratching sound, like Dean had dropped his phone.

"Dean?! Dean!"

Then he heard something. It was faint, a voice that wasn't Dean's. He couldn't recognize it, couldn't even tell if it was from a man or a woman.

"Dean, come on, pick up," Sam urged.

By now he was off the bed and pacing, running a hand through his hair.

"What's going on? Dean!"

The other voice couldn't be heard anymore and there was a shuffling noise. Then, Dean's voice, but it was all wrong, too carefree and light, "Sorry, Sam. I'm here."

"Dean. What's wrong? You dropped your phone, and-"

"I just had to put it down for a second. Everything's fine. I'm fine."

Sam frowned. "You sure?"

"I'm great, Sam."

No, no, this didn't seem right.

"Dean, just come back to the motel. Something's up."

"No, just keep doing your research. I'm okay. Really."

And then Dean hung up before Sam could argue the point further.

He tossed his phone down on the bed and wiped his hand over his mouth.

Something didn't feel right, but really, Sam had felt off since the day before. The hands on him, the absolute pain he'd endured earlier, the nightmare, Audrey, and now this. Something was seriously wrong. But what. What could be wrong? Maybe he was losing it. Yeah, that had to be it. He'd just cracked, right? Too much hunting, too much pressure, too much goddamn evil. He'd cracked. That was it. Everything was fine. He just wasn't.

But if he had cracked would he actually know it?

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 _No, can't think like that._

Going down that road would just make him even more confused than he already was.

There was only one thing he could do now. He could sit, and he could do research.

* * *

 _The four original succubi were human women who had intercourse with the archangel Lucifer. They were changed by the lustful act, becoming demons who fed off of sex. Their names vary throughout religious texts, but Lucifer's involvement is clear._

A lance of delicious heat suddenly stabbed through Sam, and he couldn't continue reading.

 _What the hell?_

A shiver ran through him, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Once again, it felt like those hands were on him, running along his skin. He noticed that his jeans began to feel much too tight as heat and pressure pooled in his pelvis. Sam, still thoroughly confused, looked down just to confirm that he was in fact erect. He definitely was. A groan left him and he tilted his head back.

 _This is stupid. I have work to do._

A gasp left him when sparks of pleasure shot through him, traveling from his left nipple to in between his legs. And those hands were ghosting over him, over his thighs, his hips, his pelvis, his ass, his abdomen and chest and arms, even his face and neck, through his hair. It was almost like he was being touched everywhere. It terrified him, made him nauseous, but if he had said it wasn't arousing as well he'd be lying.

Sam growled angrily at himself as his cock twitched, and he tried to go back to reading.

 _...Lucifer's involvement is clear._

He felt much too hot and like his clothes needed to come off.

 _...Lucifer's involvement…_

His meeting with Audrey made its way into his mind, and he thought of her lips, and her breasts, and all the things he wanted to do to her. And the way she'd pressed him up against the wall outside the bar, the thought he'd had earlier of lying her down on that table.

 _...Lucifer's…_

God, he'd love to just rip her clothes off and take her. He knew the night before he'd been submissive, hadn't really understood that, but now, now he just wanted to go at her as hard as he could.

 _...Lucifer…_

Sam slammed his laptop shut, giving up for now. There was no way he was going to be able to focus until he took care of this. He moved his laptop aside, and laid back on the bed in a more comfortable position. He had a feeling he could relieve himself without worrying about Dean coming back. Dean was busy with whatever was going on. God, no he shouldn't do this. There was something wrong with Dean. Or there could be. Something just didn't feel right. But oh, he was starting to ache. It didn't make sense how he'd gotten aroused so quickly, but he just _had_ to relieve himself.

Sam undid the button and zipper on his jeans and then pulled himself free. He nearly groaned just from the contact of his hand against his heated skin. It felt better than the ghostly sensations of the hands running over his body, more real, and it was something that he was in control of.

He hated that he'd given into his body's wants, that he was now indulging himself rather than doing research. Surely his work was more important. But his body didn't understand that. And Sam still didn't understand why he'd gotten turned on in the first place. And he nearly hated the way it felt being erect, but he didn't know why. This was all so confusing. But he continued to stroke himself, his pace quick and forceful.

The pleasure was twining its way up into his stomach, making him buck up against his hand. And then there was more pleasure, and Sam didn't understand exactly where he was feeling it. It was inside him, deep, and it stabbed its way through his spine.

"Oh _god_ …"

The fiery sensations were overcoming him and his mind traveled back to Audrey. He yearned to know what she looked like naked, yearned to hear that succulent voice of hers crying out because of him, yearned to be inside of her heat and tight slickness. He squeezed his eyes shut, more pleasure taking him from just his thoughts alone. He wanted to be rough with her, wanted to feel her nails dig into his shoulders and back as he made her sore, wanted her arching into him, begging for more.

And he thought about her last night, thought about how willing she'd been to put her mouth on him, to take him in. She certainly knew what to do with a cock once it was in her hands or in her mouth. She'd been so good, so wonderful. The things she could do with her tongue, and just the way her touch had made him feel was exhilarating. Thinking about it, remembering those sensations, drove him on.

Sam let out a startled cry as sharp pain suddenly worked its way through him, in the same place where the odd pleasure inside of him was. He didn't understand it and his eyes teared up.

But then he began to ache more intensely than he had before, desire filling him up to an impossible amount, as if he wanted even more of that pain inside him. So Sam didn't stop, just let it become part of the experience. He pumped himself more quickly, tightening his grip, thinking that maybe when he finished the pain would stop.

It was as if those hands were on him again, and he tried to imagine they were Audrey's hands, feeling over his skin, marveling at his muscles. Sam knew women liked his body, so it would only make sense for Audrey to touch him like that if he ever got the chance to be with her again. And she had touched him before, but he wanted her to do so when he was naked.

He _needed_ to be with her. Needed her full lips against his, needed to feel her mouth on him; her lips, her teeth, her tongue, needed her moaning around his cock once more. He needed everything from her. He needed to smell her warm scent again, have it fill his nostrils till she was all he was inhaling. He needed to feel her dark hair as he ran it through his fingers, to mark her, to taste her in between her legs until she was screaming his name.

His thoughts mixed with his aching desire, and the pleasure he was feeling caused him to shudder and let out a deep groan. That pain was still there, still terrifying him, but it was drowned in a haze of sexual need that seemed to run deep within him, searing his nerves till he could barely stand it.

Sam was sweating, and he had his head tossed back. Just to challenge himself, to see if he could have any self control in this moment, he lightened his touch till he was just barely touching himself. His stomach quivered from that and his cock twitched before it began to leak precum. He felt feverish. He just wanted to keep touching himself the way he had been before, but he knew dragging this out would make it more gratifying when he finally did give in. He gripped himself lightly and used his thumb to slowly spread his precum around on the head of his cock. He imagined it was Audrey's saliva, hot and straight from her mouth. Oh, her saliva was wonderful. His hands started shaking as he teased himself like this, and a whine left him. He wondered if Audrey would like seeing him like this. She probably would. And at the moment, Sam was too lost in a haze of want to think about all the weird things he'd been going through, too lost to question Audrey like he had been before. She was too beautiful to be anything dangerous, and she would like him like this. He knew it. Last night she'd gotten him to the point where he was whining and shaking, and she'd seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, and she'd enjoyed him. He wanted her to enjoy him again, to have her tongue running along him before her lips were wrapping around him. That image quickly switched to one that had not come to pass, of him slowly filling her in between her legs, her wet warmth tight around him.

That was it. He was giving in. Sam began to forcefully pump himself again and he throbbed as he did so. The pleasure seemed to hit him and spread through him like a powerful wave, drowning out all other thoughts. Even the pain began to feel good. His breathing quickened and his muscles began tensing as that wave continued to consume him. Every sensation grew till he could barely stand it. And then he was coming, too taken in the throes of sexual pleasure to give a damn that he was making a mess of himself. He bit his lip to hold back a cry.

When it became too much, when it began to hurt, he stopped touching himself. But still, sensation was there, hurting him; burning, aching. Sam whimpered, and then grit his teeth against the awfulness of it. The pleasure ebbed from him, like a wave pulling back into the sea, but then the destruction was left. And he was hurting. There was the pain inside him, the stabbing which had turned into soreness, and now it was as if he was being overstimulated. But he wasn't doing anything!

Sam was so frustrated he let out a yell, and he gripped the sheets of his bed, not sure how he was going to get through this.

 _Please just stop already_ , he begged, not even sure what he was begging to. He just wanted it to end. But it didn't. So, unsure of what to do, Sam decided to take a cold shower.

He rushed to get himself undressed and didn't even bother with grabbing a change of clothes. He winced as he climbed under the frigid water and then he began to shiver. And still it didn't stop. His breathing was harsh, the way his voice leaked out on his exhales speaking of his distress. His legs were shaking helplessly and he had to brace himself against the wall.

"Come on, Sam," he told himself. "You're fine. You're okay."

Really, he should be okay, there wasn't any reason for him to feel like this. The cold began to make his chest constrict, and fear flowed through him; fear that he didn't understand. It was like a black cloud, encompassing everything in its shadow.

The cold shower didn't seem to be doing anything. There was still that sensation of being overstimulated, still the soreness inside him, of… of fullness. But there was pleasure as well.

Maybe the water wasn't cold enough. But it was as cold as it would go. The cold seemed to bite into him, stinging and scraping, and terror ran through him, but he didn't know why. Then, to his absolute confusion, he felt himself growing erect again. He knew he had a short refractory period but while experiencing these terrifying sensations this was just ridiculous, and at this point, unwanted.

"No, no, no…" Sam groaned.

He gave up with the cold and made the water a much more comfortable temperature. Sparks of pleasure were spreading through him, and little jabs of pain, almost like someone was nipping at his skin.

And then, he watched as marks began to cover him. Bruises and red welts, some of the bruises looking like teeth marks, and others, the ones forming on his hips and wrists, looked like handprints. He shuddered as horror washed through him. What the hell was happening to him? And the pleasure in his body still hadn't stopped. It was hot and unyielding, and there was soreness where the marks were set in; not deep, but still there.

He just wanted to scream and cry. He didn't understand what was going on. Didn't know why his body was acting like this, why there were _marks_ on him. No one was touching him. He wasn't even touching himself. Yet it nearly felt like he was being touched, pleasure digging its hooks into him and clouding his mind. He was shuddering from a combination of that and fear. A moan left him and he leaned his head against the shower wall, squeezing his eyes shut.

He wanted this to stop. It felt good, but it wasn't _right_. It wasn't supposed to be happening. There was something seriously wrong with him. But it was embarrassing, nothing he could talk to Dean about. Besides, he seemed to be ignoring all his other problems.

And that thought brought tears to Sam's eyes. Why didn't he care? It didn't make sense. None of this made sense. What the hell was going on?

He couldn't hold back a shout when he climaxed again, the pleasure pounding him and becoming all that he was. When his body relaxed, he continued to cry. He hated that he was crying, hated that he had marks on his body, hated that there was so evidently something wrong. Again, Sam contemplated that maybe he'd been put under a spell. But what kind of spell, and why? What goal could this possibly lead to? And if not a spell, then what? Had something else supernatural messed with him? How?

Feeling disgusted with himself, Sam cleaned himself up and even washed his hair. His tears stopped as he did so. Curiously, he poked at the bruise on his right hip. Soreness spread out from his touch, and he winced. So it was real alright. He just didn't know how. He studied the other marks on him, his stomach rolling with nausea. If he didn't know any better he'd think that he'd had really rough sex, and with a man. Those bruises like fingers on his hips and wrists were definitely the size of a man's hands. God, that disgusted him. He just wasn't into other men like that. Others could be, and that was fine. But he wasn't, and it looked like… Maybe that explained why he'd hurt inside, why he'd felt… good. Sam swallowed roughly and he shivered.

 _Oh my god._

Now a very different kind of heat was taking over his body, and he started to feel dizzy. Sam hurriedly turned the water off and got out of the shower. He dried himself, and all the while he tried not to puke. It was awful that he had to take extra care to not press against the bruises. He didn't need the pain as a reminder that something was very, very wrong.

Curiously, he wiped the steam off the mirror and eyed himself, wondering if there were any such marks on his face. There were bruises on his jaw, and his lips looked a little swollen and his bottom one was bleeding. But as he watched, those marks began to fade before him, even the blood was gone and it was as if his lip had suddenly repaired itself, the tiny wound sewing itself back up. He glanced down at his chest, and the marks were fading there as well. By the time he got a look at his wrists the bruises were gone.

Oh god, that wasn't right.

 _At least it doesn't look like…_

Sam couldn't even finish the thought, his stomach still a bit weak. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and went out into the motel room to get dressed. Once he did so he tried to go back to doing research. Maybe if he focused on that everything would be okay. But he was so distracted he found himself accidently reading from the paragraph he'd left off on:

 _The four original succubi were human women who had intercourse with the archangel Lucifer. They were changed by the lustful act, becoming demons who fed off of sex. Their names vary throughout religious texts, but Lucifer's involvement is clear._


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had eventually been able to get his thoughts back on track again, but he was still having a hard time finding anything. At least his search was more focused now. It seemed like succubi and incubi could've been behind the deaths, but from what he read, those kinds of demons didn't really kill, or not at first. They just tended to drive their victims insane, and that was only after repeated sexual encounters. Maybe the Kings had had more than one sexual encounter with the demon; there wasn't a way to know for sure. And really, it looked like the succubi and incubi just wanted to procreate, at least that's what the lore said, so why would they kill their victims? It didn't make sense. But there'd been sulfur at the crime scene so they _were_ dealing with a demon.

Maybe they were dealing with more than one. It could've been two demons that had possessed the kings and had just had sex past the bodies' limits and then left the dead vessels when they were done. Or it could've been one demon who had taken the other human, which would've gone past the point where they wouldn't want it, if they had even wanted it to begin with. And having sex while possessed would've been a non-consensual act as it was.

Sam felt sick to his stomach at that thought and shivered.

He was glad that when he'd been possessed by Meg she hadn't used him for sex. Well, from the bits and pieces he could remember she almost had, with Jo, but that was… that would've been rape.

 _No, can't think about that._

Why was he even thinking about that? That was years ago.

Sam brushed the thought aside, turned off his rising tide of emotions as easily as flipping a light switch. He'd been trying to do that with his emotions about this case and the hands touching him, but it was difficult to do while in the middle of it all.

After not being able to find anything else he started pacing, tapping his phone against his hand, waiting for Dean to get back. If he wasn't back in an hour Sam decided he was going after him. It had already been two and a half hours since the odd phone call.

The door opened, and Sam suddenly turned to it, glad to see his brother standing in the doorway. His clothes were a bit messed up, but other than that he seemed fine.

He came closer, and that's when Sam noticed his pupils were dilated and his cheeks were flushed. Maybe he wasn't so fine.

He grinned, tossing the motel room key down on the table after he closed the door, and then he started taking his jacket off.

"Hey, Sammy," he greeted.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sam asked.

"I told you. The crime scene."

Sam put his hands on his hips. "Dean, it's been nearly three hours."

He gave him a lopsided smile before making his way over to the fridge. "Huh, didn't notice." He opened it and then frowned. "Why don't we have any beer in here?"

"Because you forgot to unload it from the cooler in the Impala. Now come on, Dean, focus."

Sam snapped his fingers and Dean jumped, and Sam didn't like the way his eyes looked. It was almost like he was…

"Are you high?"

And now that he was observing him more under the motel room lights he saw beads of sweat on him.

"Were you running or something?" he added.

Dean shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Uh huh."

"Dude, seriously," his brother began, walking over to him and grabbing a hold of his shirt, "I'm just… I'm _fantastic_."

He slapped his cheek lightly and stepped back to flop down onto the couch, the faux leather squeaking, and he swung his legs up onto the coffee table. "So come on, tell me what you found."

Sam crossed his arms, still not understanding what was going on with Dean, but deciding to let it go for now because of the case - besides, Sam had things going on that he was now keeping from Dean as well. "Well, I have three theories."

"Shoot."

"We're either dealing with two demons who just thought it'd be fun to screw each other till the vessels died, or possibly just one demon, _or_ we're dealing with a sex demon."

Dean squinted at him, and then opened his mouth, clearly trying to think about it. "Wouldn't that just be the same thing?"

"No, I mean, a _literal_ sex demon. An incubus, or a succubus."

"Huh."

Dean pursed his lips, nodding as he thought about it.

"Hard to say with just the sulfur to go off of. Besides, when's the last time we came across a demon who was only interested in sex?"

"Never," Sam reasoned, taking a seat next to him. But then he thought better of it and scooched to the far side of the couch. "Man, you reek," he told him. Dean stunk of sweat and a heavier scent, and Sam figured he knew what it was. He was starting to put together what exactly Dean had been up to.

"Yeah, well…"

Sam frowned.

Was it possible that Dean was now a victim? Maybe sulfur wasn't their only lead.

"Okay, Dean, be honest with me," Sam started, "did you take anything?"

"No."

"Did you see anyone else?"

"No."

Sam tilted his head at him and gave him what was basically a _fuck you_ , and Dean had dubbed it his bitch face.

"I'm serious!" Dean argued. "I went to the crime scene, searched around a bit, you called asking for updates" - Sam pulled his head back and frowned at that part because that most certainly hadn't been why he'd called - "and then I told you about the sulfur. Now I'm here."

"Okay, and what about those few hours that are missing from your story?"

He chuckled. No, _giggled_. "I don't know, Sammy. But wow, I feel _so good_! You want to go out? Let's go out."

He started getting up and Sam grabbed his arm.

"No, you're not going out like this."

"What, I'll shower."

"No, not while you're stoned!"

Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes, and it was unnerving because it was like he wasn't all there.

"I'm not stoned."

"You're stoned."

"Fine," he shot back. "Maybe I am. But you were last night."

Sam shook his head. "No, I wasn't. Drunk, yeah, but stoned?"

Dean was just nodding, and nodding way too much, and then he just kept doing it until he almost fell over and Sam had to grab him.

"Sammy, you rebel," he got out while beaming at him, "doing drugs."

"I didn't-"

"Sh, sh, sh…" Dean murmured, pressing a finger against Sam's lips, and Sam instantly pulled back and smacked his hand away.

"Gross, go shower."

"Yep, gonna shower."

Dean went over to the bureau to grab a change of clothes, and Sam said, "Don't forget, we still have the case to work on."

"Uh huh."

Sam wasn't very convinced, but Dean was being uncooperative, and he really did seem high, so he decided to let it go for now. Besides, maybe he could just watch Dean, see how long it took for the effects to wear off. And maybe what Dean had said about him last night held some truth to it. Last night was kind of fuzzy in his mind. He just knew that Audrey had made him feel _really_ good.

Could she be who they were looking for?

As soon as Sam thought that his mind instantly veered away from it.

 _No, can't be her._

Then who? Then _what_?

Sam realized they were stumped until they figured something else out, and he'd had a long day and apparently Dean had too, so he decided to call it quits for now. There was always tomorrow.

* * *

Sam awoke to pain in his back, deep pain like he'd never experienced before. When things started to make more sense to him he realized his face was already wet with tears, and he was crying, but now that he was aware of it he was trying to stop it. The pain dug and dug, sharp and stabbing and aching and sore all at once. He was able to pinpoint where it was; his lower back. He tried sitting up, but a cry left him. Dean didn't go to him. Instead, Dean was already awake, which was strange for him. He was getting ready for the day, and then paused in doing so to stop by Sam's bed, looking completely unfazed by what his brother was going through.

"I can't believe you're actually lying around in bed for once," Dean said. "Aren't you gonna get up?"

"W-what?" Sam got out before a cry left his lips and he winced and tried rolling onto his side, except it didn't work like he'd expected because his legs didn't want to move with him. Oh god, could he not move his legs? "Dean, something's wrong."

"Yeah, you're still in bed."

Dean started leaving his side, and Sam reached out to grab his wrist, his shirt, anything to get him to stay with him, but he misaimed, barely able to see through his tears.

"Dean, help me!"

Something poked at him, _inside_ , and it was like electricity ran up his spine, and his entire body grew taut, his back arching, a soundless scream leaving him.

Then it died down, but there was still that _agony_ , like something was digging and tearing and pulling. Burning, stabbing, stinging, throbbing. And his legs. It was like he couldn't move his legs. Through the blinding, mind-numbing pain Sam kept trying, but he couldn't. They just wouldn't _move_.

"I-I can't m-move my legs," he stuttered out, hoping Dean would hear him, that he would _listen_ , that he would _react_.

"You just gonna lie there all day?" his brother asked from somewhere in the motel room.

Pressure seemed to squeeze his chest with that question.

Dean didn't care.

No, no, that wasn't it. It couldn't be it.

And then all Sam's thoughts became one thing as the pain grew deeper, and began to spread throughout his entire lower back, and nearly up to the middle of his back, but he realized that beneath that there was nothing, just numbness. It grew till he couldn't take it, and he lay there, thinking one word over and over again: _Stop_.

Oh god, it just had to stop.

But it didn't, and Dean was still talking. Sam couldn't hear what he was saying, was too busy trying to not scream, his hands fisting the sheets, his face red, sweat dripping off of him. He thought maybe a sound was leaving him, something strangled, and fearful, and animalistic. But it didn't matter that he couldn't hear Dean. He knew what he'd be saying. He was taunting him to get out of bed. But he couldn't move his legs!

"I can't!" Sam yelled at him through gritted teeth. "My legs! I can't _move_ my le-egs." The last word broke into a sob. Sam didn't know why he was reacting like this. He'd never broken down like this before, not really. But it hurt more than he could imagine, was the worst thing he'd ever experienced, and Dean just _didn't care_.

Dean was by his side again and Sam weakly reached out to him with a trembling hand.

"M-make it stop," he begged, his voice a choked whisper. "Make it _stop_. _Agh!_ "

"Sam, you getting up or not?"

Sam screamed at him at that.

This wasn't Dean. This couldn't be. This was a nightmare, some twisted nightmare. But never before in his nightmares had he hurt like this. This felt real, all too real.

He was looking at him through his tears, and it was his brother. It _was_.

Sam was sobbing now, his chest heaving, his shoulders shaking.

He just wanted this all to stop! Was that too much to ask?

Just when he thought he was going to start losing his mind the pain vanished, and he could feel Dean nudging his knee.

Sam was shaking and it took awhile for him to get his breathing under control. Then he wiped at his face and sat up.

He looked to Dean who was gazing at him expectantly. "Well, get your ass up. Let's go. We have a job to do."


	4. Chapter 4

On their way to breakfast they got stuck in traffic, probably from the accident wreckage getting cleaned up.

"Sam, can I talk to you about something?" Dean asked tentatively.

His tone had Sam worried, but he responded as calmly as he could, "Yeah, sure."

"Yesterday afternoon. I… I don't remember it much."

Sam chewed on his bottom lip and turned to look at his brother, who was now suddenly very focused on the road even though they were hardly moving.

"What do you remember?"

"I remember lunch, and then going to the crime scene, even thinking the house was pretty nice. I remember getting a call from you, and finding the sulfur, but then, that's it. Everything else is… just a haze. But…" He sighed, and shook his head. "I feel… weird."

"Weird?"

Dean swallowed roughly and then turned his head away.

"I don't know. Something happened, and… and I don't know what. And I think it was good. I remember feeling pretty good, but now…" He shrugged. "I just feel gross."

Sam took in a deep breath, starting to try and put things together, but before he could jump to any conclusions he had to first figure out what else Dean knew.

"When we were on the phone," he began, "you dropped it, and I think there was someone else with you. I heard a voice."

Sam saw a shudder go through Dean, but neither of them drew attention to it.

"Do you remember that? Remember being with someone?"

"I don't know." There was a pause, and then Dean went on, tension filling the car and squeezing Sam's heart with his next words, "I think… I think maybe someone touched me."

Oh god, someone had touched his brother, and now… Now what? It had come out of the blue, had been totally random. Had Dean wanted it? Had he even been in the right state of mind to properly consent? What had gotten to him? Sam didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it seemed like it was what they were dealing with. Nothing else made sense. He knew Dean was one for one night stands and sometimes making out with random strangers, but while right in the middle of a case? It wasn't like him, and neither was his behavior from yesterday afternoon, and based on what he was telling him…

"Dean, what if you were attacked?"

He started immediately shaking his head, a nervous laugh leaving him. "No. No, that's not what happened."

"What we're dealing with-"

He whirled on Sam as he cut him off, his voice raised, "Look, we don't know what we're dealing with, okay? So don't go making assumptions about what the hell happened to me. You weren't there, you didn't experience it, so you don't know."

"All I'm saying is-"

"Yeah, I know what you're saying, and you know what? I don't want to hear it. I wasn't attacked. Whatever happened, I must've… I must've consented to it, okay? I must've. I had to have. That's what happened. Someone showed up at the crime scene, things got a little weird, and that's it."

He tried to look his brother in the eye, but he was avoiding his gaze, and traffic had started moving again, so now Dean had the road to look to as an excuse.

"You know that's not true," he murmured, tears in his eyes as he said it, as the truth started to fully hit him, or what must've been the truth. Whatever they were after had attacked Dean. It had to have. That's the only thing he could think of.

And this wasn't a normal attack, not one that seemed like it could be fought off. It was one that was _enjoyed_ , and afterwards it left a feeling of disgust.

So maybe Sam hadn't been touched by it, or Audrey, or whatever this thing was. He didn't feel bad about the night before. Just confused. Truthfully, he wanted more.

Or maybe it was attacking each of them differently, using different psychic tactics to get to them.

No, that was ridiculous. Way too far-fetched, even for the kind of life they led.

"Let's just drop it," Dean told him, his tone dark.

Sam nodded once, not sure he wanted to continue either. Dean seemed to know the truth, just wanted to pretend otherwise.

After taking a right and going a little ways down the right they drew close to what looked like a shop, and there were a bunch of police cars outside. The scene drew his attention and Sam's gut told him it was important.

He whacked Dean in the arm, pointing as he said, "Dude, dude, pull over."

It didn't take long for Dean to pick up on what had caught his eye and they parked nearby. They weren't in any disguises, but they figured their FBI badges they'd used the day before would have to do.

They got out of the car, the doors creaking as they closed them, and walked up to the store, which was already being marked off with yellow tape. A policewoman with graying hair and lined blue eyes spotted them first, and went over to meet them.

"Gentlemen, this is a crime scene," she said, her voice stern. "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"We're FBI agents," Dean explained, taking out his badge, and Sam did the same.

She peered at them.

"Agents Tyler and Perry, what brings you here?"

"We're investigating the deaths of Amy and David King," Sam answered. "We were just driving by, saw something was going on, and were thinking we could help."

She crossed her arms and looked back at the other officers who were working.

"Well, there's not much to be done now," she told them. "We got a call earlier this morning from the store owner as he was opening up. He found one of the clerks, Jessica Bowers, dead."

"Any idea as to what caused it?"

She shrugged. "Can't find any sign of a fight, some marks on the body, but nothing violent."

Dean frowned at that.

"What do you mean?"

"Between the three of us," she started, leaning closer, "that dead girl sure has a lot of hickeys on her neck. But those could be old, who knows? She was found naked, just like the Kings, so that's weird. But my guess is a heart attack."

"How old was she?" Sam questioned.

"Eighteen."

Sam turned to Dean with a look of disbelief etched on his face, and his brother had a similar expression.

"Eighteen year olds don't just die of _heart_ _attacks_ ," Dean reasoned.

The police officer shrugged.

"Do you think there's a connection to the Kings' deaths?" Sam asked.

"Look, I told you all I know. If you want I can give you more information once forensics runs their tests."

"You have a pen?" Sam asked her. "I can give you my number."

She took a pen out of her pocket, and also a tiny notepad, flipped to an empty page, and passed both to Sam.

He gave her the number to his cellphone that he used to deal with all the calls he received as an FBI agent, and then handed it back to her with a quick smile.

"So now what?" Dean asked as they walked back to the Impala. "That's another body. If people keep dropping this is just gonna get worse."

"I could talk to Audrey again," Sam suggested.

Dean glowered at him over the top of the Impala, and then got in, a grunt leaving him as he sat down.

"Why her?"

"I feel like there's more she knows and just isn't telling us."

" _Or_ you're trying to get to her before I can."

Sam huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "That's not what this is about. I'm trying to focus on the case."

He really was trying to focus on the case, and maybe talking to Audrey would bring something up. But Dean had a point. He did just want to spend time with her again, and in an unprofessional setting.

But surely thinking about Audrey was better than thinking about the hands he'd felt on him and the agonies he'd experienced. It had to be. Besides, getting closer to her could lead him to finding something out. He was sure Dean had used that tactic before. Why shouldn't he?

"You sure that's all this is about? I know I was going on and on about her, but the way you were looking at her…"

"What?"

" _You_ want to get laid."

"So what if I do?"

"Dude, you got some… well, uh, _attention_ the other night. Don't you think you're all set for now?"

"Audrey's hot," he reasoned, surprised the words were leaving his mouth. He almost never talked about women with Dean.

"Fine, you know what? After breakfast, you can go see her. I'll even be nice and let you take the Impala."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes, really, now shut up before I change my mind. I can't believe I'm saying this, but while you're gone I'll just do research or something. I'm kinda burned out from… well, from yesterday."

* * *

Sam went back to the hospital to ask about Audrey, not really sure how else he could find her. Luckily, the receptionist at the front desk recognized him from the day before, and once he said it was about the case, he was allowed to wait for her.

The hospital wasn't as busy today, so it was easier to relax as he waited, but his heart was racing in anticipation.

She was in blue scrubs when she came by, but she had her purse over her shoulder, and her coat over her arm, looking like she was about to leave.

"Agent Tyler, what are you doing here?" she asked, standing closer to him than was warranted.

"Thought I'd talk to you again," he responded with a smile.

"Well, lucky for you I just finished my shift."

"Great," Sam responded excitedly as he stood, probably doing so much too quickly.

Audrey seemed amused by it, and then suggested, "We could get some coffee. There's this little café I know of."

"Want to ride with me?"

She patted his chest and said, "You, sir, are lucky I walked here. So yes, I'd love to."

Sam wasn't too sure how he should act as he walked her out because as far as the receptionist knew he was there for the case and yesterday Audrey had acted like she'd never seen him before, but now she was being friendly with him again. He just settled for gently placing a hand against her back as they walked out, and he led her to where he parked.

"Ooh, nice car," she commented when she saw the Impala, truly seeming impressed.

"You like cars?" Sam asked as he unlocked the doors and then went around to help her in.

"Only ones owned by tall men," she responded, giving him a once over that nearly had him choke on air.

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to that comment, hated that he was getting tongue-tied around her again, and then went to his side and got in.

She gave him directions to the cafê and it was a quick drive. It wasn't too busy inside since the breakfast rush had ended, but there were still a few stragglers.

After getting their drinks he chose a table near the corner of the room, one where he could watch all the entrances and exits and wouldn't be easily seen from the window. He figured he was safe right now, but it was just a habit of his.

Or maybe he wasn't so safe. Something seemed off about Audrey, but that just drew him in instead of pushed him away.

"So," he began after a sip, "about the other night."

She raised her eyebrows, and rested her arms on the table, and all he wanted to do was just reach out and run his hands over them, feel her bare skin. "What about the other night?"

He felt heat rise to his cheeks and looked down. "Do you usually give blowjobs to strangers?"

"Hell no," she responded. "God, I'm surprised I even did that. So unlike me."

"You sure?" he questioned. "You were pretty good at it, and I saw you with that other guy."

"Oh, he was no one," she responded as she ran her fingers over the back of his hand, the sensation making him inhale sharply. The rest of the café seemed to dim, almost blurring, like none of it mattered. There was just her and her beautiful brown eyes, and skin he wanted to taste. "I like you, Sam. I really do. And yeah, since I don't really know you, most of it is because of your looks, but could you blame me?" He swallowed roughly and opened his mouth to say _something_ , anything! No words came out, and his lips suddenly felt very dry. Thankfully, she asked him something, "Now what about you? Do you usually do things like that?"

He shook his head, and then took her hand in his - the circles she had started to rub on his skin had gotten rather distracting. "No. No, that's uh, that's more my brother's thing."

"Your brother, the other agent who spoke to me?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, not realizing at the moment that he should've lied. They'd given her different last names, were posing as partners, and now she knew it was all a lie. But none of that came to mind.

"He's handsome, too." Sam just about growled at that, but she calmed him by continuing on, "But I'm not attracted to him. Believe me, you're more my type. I'd be more than willing to do _anything_ with you." The last words she'd said quietly, and Sam found himself having to lean in to properly hear her.

Then she pulled her hand from his and sipped her coffee, but he'd forgotten all about his drink, just found himself watching her. Her hair was still in a ponytail, and he wanted to take it down, wanted it to fan out on the pillow when he took her, wanted to run his hands through it. Surely her wavy locks would be just as soft as they had been the other night.

They continued talking, and if asked about it later he wouldn't even really be able to tell what they'd been talking about. And Sam had meant to ask if she did know anything more about Amy and David King, but she was just _so_ _distracting_.

He couldn't even really remember how, but they ended up back at her place, and he was too busy making out with her to see if her house was nice. He didn't take much of it in really, just let her take him to the bedroom, dragging him along with her hand on his belt.

Sam picked up Audrey, and her legs instantly wrapped around his waist. He moaned at the feeling of her pressed against him. He kicked the door closed and then carried her over to the bed, lying her down on it. Her lips were on his again, sending pleasure flaring throughout his body. Just the mere touch of her was enough to drive him wild.

She ran her hands up his arms and then began tugging his shirt off. Sam held his arms back to let her do so, and then he pulled back, taking off the white t-shirt he'd been wearing underneath the plaid. Audrey smiled at him, her pupils already dilated from lust. Unlike the other night she seemed tentative to touch him now as she reached up to slowly run her hands over his torso. A silver arc of pleasure ran from where her hands were on his chest down into his cock, and he felt himself thickening with desire.

"You look more amazing than I thought you would," she told him.

"I can't wait to see how you look," Sam told her, surprised that he wasn't at a loss for words like he'd been behind the bar. Now he seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and instead of wanting to let Audrey use him, he was going to use her, was going to fulfill himself with her body, and she seemed more than willing to let him.

He leaned down and nearly brought his lips to hers, teasing her with the closeness, and he enjoyed feeling her quickened breaths on him. It sent delicious little tingles rushing over his skin, and heat flushed through him, nearly making it harder to breathe.

God, he just needed her.

Sam cradled her head in his hands, and licked her lips, which were parted slightly. Even just that little taste of her was nearly enough to have his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He wanted to consume her, and he wanted to fill her, and show her all he could do.

He lifted her up, and then he set himself to taking her scrubs off. Before he could get to her bra, she'd already taken it off herself, and now she was only in her underwear since they'd both taken their socks and shoes off at the door.

"Take your hair down," Sam ordered, desiring to run his hands through it.

She did as he said, and he watched her intently as she did so, licking his bottom lip. It was so hard to keep himself off of her. Her breasts were gorgeous; perfectly round, and her nipples were in hardened peaks. Once Audrey took the hair elastic out, she shook her hair out, and Sam growled at the wonderful sight before him. He leaned over, running a hand through her hair, and then he grabbed and pulled so that her head was tilted back, exposing the smooth skin of her neck. He brought his mouth to her throat, and she let out a sigh. Sam didn't start gentle, wasn't sure he knew how to be gentle in this moment. He just wanted more. So much more. He sucked marks into her neck, and then started biting, which made her cry out, but instead of arching away like some women might from the unexpected flare of pain, she arched into him, her hands grabbing at his shoulders. And it was like she was trying to lift herself to him, wanting their bodies to be closer.

Sam pressed her back down to the bed again, and he kissed her down in between her breasts. For a few seconds he struggled with deciding whether he should hold both her wrists down, or if he should just feel all over her breasts.

He figured, why not both, and told her, "Hands above your head, wrists together."

Despite her dominance when they'd been together before, Audrey was quick to comply, and told him, "I'm enjoying you like this."

Sam easily grabbed hold of her wrists in one hand. It wasn't difficult, really; she was so much smaller than he was. He lost himself in her, felt her over, sucked on her breasts till her nipples were an angry shade of red, and then he'd finally gotten her naked. She was already wet in between her legs, but from previous sexual experiences, he knew she'd have to be wetter. Hell, it would probably just be smart to get her to orgasm at least once before he tried entering her.

Audrey tasted amazing in between her legs. Sam knew not all men enjoyed the way women tasted, but he always loved it, mostly because it was incredibly sexy to know that he'd gotten a woman turned on in the first place. He held her legs open as he did this, and she was moaning, running her hands through his hair, setting the nerves in his scalp alight.

"Oh god, Sam!"

He could feel her legs trembling, trying to wrap around his head as he sucked on her clitoris, and then he was licking over it in circles, over and over again, making her shudder. She was so warm in between her legs, and Sam's full cock twitched just from the thought of being buried in all that warmth.

He wanted her more than he wanted to breathe, and he was hardly coming up for air as it was, was too busy inhaling her heady scent. Sam wanted more of her, needed more of her, felt so hot and was beginning to ache just from being with her. He lowered his mouth to her opening and began licking, doing so till he felt her throb, and all the while he was brushing his nose against her clitoris. Sam had little care that he was getting her juices all over his face. In fact, he reveled in it.

Now instead of running her hands through his hair she was tugging, tugging till it hurt, and he loved it. It made him moan into her, and that seemed to help her along. He could feel her muscles tensing now, could see it when he looked up at her, her chest heaving, and then he dragged his tongue up through her folds to her clitoris and began flicking it wildly. That set her crying out, and then her back was arching at a near-impossible angle, her breath not coming to her, and still Sam continued to taste her, even brought his mouth lower to taste her juices.

Then, he did pull away, and just ran his hands up and down her thighs, allowing her to catch her breath.

"Fuck," she exclaimed.

"That's it?" he asked. "Nothing else to say?"

"That's it?" she shot back breathlessly. "Nothing else to do to me?"

Sam chuckled and then let go of her so he could take his pants and his boxers off.

Audrey lifted herself up a bit, resting her weight on her hands, watching him as he did so. Sam loved having her eyes on him. It made his thoughts all hazy with blissful need.

Then, without saying anything, he kissed her and then grabbed her and rolled her onto her stomach. Audrey got the idea and got on her hands and knees. Sam leaned over, wrapped an arm around her shoulders to hold her to him, and kissed her cheek. He didn't understand it, but even just that one simple kiss had him nearly shuddering with want.

He grabbed himself, exhaled deeply from his own touch, and then positioned himself at her entrance. Sometimes Sam liked to tease his partner and run the head of his cock over their sex before entering them, but he just didn't have the self control to do that with Audrey. He just started pushing in, and she gasped.

Fuck, she felt amazing.

But he went slowly, knowing he was too big to try and enter his partners quickly. He'd gotten complaints about that the times he'd done so without thinking. Sam would feel bad afterwards, but he was always assured that it was fine. Still, he wanted to be careful.

Audrey took in a shaky breath, and then let it out through her mouth, as if she was doing her best to stay relaxed. Though Sam had only gotten the head in her, he found it in himself to stop.

"You good?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

"Just give me a second. Wow."

"Sorry."

Audrey giggled at that, and Sam thought it was one of the best sounds in the world.

A few seconds passed, and then she gave him the okay to continue entering her. To try and get her to relax even more, Sam put one leg up on the bed to balance better, and then moved his free hand down to brush his fingers over her clitoris. Her body opened up for him more readily at that, yet he still took it slow.

Audrey asked him to stop again, and he instantly did. Even if he hadn't wanted to, her voice felt commanding. If she wanted to, she could easily turn the situation around on him, have him be the one on the bottom, but it seemed like she wanted to give in this time. Sam could practically feel it from her, could feel how needy she was, how she hungered to be dominated. It just about drove him insane.

Her hips arched into him, seemingly of their own accord as he fingered her clit, and Sam took that as an okay to continue entering her, and she didn't stop him. After agonizingly long seconds filled with heat that danced through his body, Sam was fully in her. He pressed his forehead against her back, moaning loudly from how truly perfect she felt. He twitched within her, and a jolt ran up from his toes, his heavy cock spitting precum. He just wanted to stay in her forever. Her touch sent pleasure through him that was so intense it was difficult to not just fall down and let that pleasure take him and consume him. He wanted to become that pleasure. Wanted it to be all there was.

He nearly did fall because Audrey tightened her walls around him, and he had to grasp her hip to ground himself, to try and keep it together.

But he couldn't keep it together. He started going at her and then he couldn't stop. The pleasure was blinding, and she was moaning each time he buried himself to the hilt in her slick heat. Sam was sure he'd never felt anything this good. Each time he thrusted into her he nearly started screaming. The pleasure was so acute, so exquisite, that it hurt. It seared him, ate through his nerves, and took him over. His cock was alight with it and it traveled up to his stomach, making him feel light-headed. Sweat was coating both of them by now, especially Sam.

He just had to keep thrusting into her, again and again and again. The friction, the pressure, the heat, the softness of her - it was all so intense he was losing touch with any part of his body that wasn't touching her, and whenever he wasn't buried deep in her, he missed her greatly, his heart nearly aching. So he had to thrust in quickly, but even staying still for a second was torture, so he had to pull out quickly as well. And he just had to be rough. There was no way around it. She was beautiful, and he had to show her just how she made him feel, and it made him feel all the better for it. Sam had to pound into her till she was swollen and wet beyond belief, till she was screaming. And she did start screaming, the sound seeming to vibrate though Sam's skull till he was seeing bright flashes of color. As her voice continued to leave her it felt like his head was buzzing and his eardrums were being pierced with a pure note of pleasure, a sensation that not even the best music could grant him. His very body was tingling from it, his muscles quivering, as if he was growing attuned to her.

It made him work even harder, the arm around her shoulders tensing to keep himself from accidently crushing her against him. And then the hand that had been at her hip he moved along her torso, his hand shaking with how difficult it was to be gentle. He gave up on that within a matter of seconds and raked his nails over her abdomen as if he was trying to rip her apart, and with the way his hips were still moving, maybe he was. Sam wanted her stretched open because of him, wanted her to remember him for days. He grasped at her breasts, trying to give them each equal attention as he squeezed and kneaded and pinched at her nipples.

Eventually, he grew tired of this position, and reluctantly pulled out of Audrey. She was panting and laid herself down on the bed.

"Oh my god, you're good at this," she exclaimed.

Now he was resting over her, holding himself up with his elbows on either side of her head. She touched his face, making Sam close his eyes and lean into it as a shudder ran down his spine.

"I want you to cum in me," she murmured.

"But…" Sam began panting out.

Audrey put a finger to his lips, and he hissed in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. His lips tingled from her touch, and he needed more.

"It's okay. I'm on the pill."

Sam decided it was so much easier to believe her in that moment because he yearned to finish in her. He needed it, needed to empty himself inside her tight walls, fill her up with all that he could give her.

She pulled her finger away, and then Sam was kissing her, his mouth open, and he breathed in her warm scent, which seemed to be all around him now. Audrey started kicking herself back, their lips still connected, and Sam climbed onto the bed, settling in between her legs.

It was easier to enter her this time, seeing as her body was more used to his now. It felt good knowing that it was so ready to accept him again, that _she_ was so ready to accept him again. It felt right, like all this was meant to be, like she was meant to be fucked like this, and with Sam being the one to do it. Audrey wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, making his skin burn, and then he went at her again, his thrusts hard and fast. He did his best to keep their lips together, though it was difficult with their height difference. Still, he managed.

At one point Audrey just leaned her head back and started crying out into the air, her sweat-slicked hair fanning around around her head beautifully. Sam hungrily licked his tongue into her open mouth, trying to devour those sounds, wanting them to be part of him.

Then her walls started tightening and tightening and he was crying out now, too, her body squeezing his cock till he started to ache from the sheer amount of pleasure and need coursing through his blood, and he thought he might've hardened even more. He had thought that he would need to really focus on Audrey's clitoris again to get her to climax, but that didn't seem to be the case, because now he was kissing her fiercely as she was lost in the throes of pleasure, her walls rhythmically contracting around him. He remained buried in her, and she scraped her nails along his back, the pain making him want even more. He'd let her hurt him. In that moment he wanted it, just as badly as he wanted to make her sore. And she most likely already was sore.

Then Sam's orgasm snuck up on him, her own climax being too much for him to bear, and pleasure was bursting and jolting through him, his cock throbbing as he came deep in her. He wasn't kissing her anymore, didn't remember how to. Just felt her against him, around him, and he was blinded by it, white light bursting behind his eyes, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't move save for trembling fiercely and pressing his hips against her as much as possible, needing to be in her as much as he could be. There was no riding this pleasure out. It simply dug deep into him, and it was like it was eating him alive in silvery bursts of brilliance.

Thoughts of burning sexual need and desire and pleasure ran through his mind in such a beautiful montage that was so haphazardly sewn together with delicious, heady bliss that he couldn't even make sense of them. He was drowning in them, drowning in the sensations seemingly stealing the life from his body, drowning in Audrey.

Then it was over, and he felt like he could finally let go of her.

Sam pulled out of her and lay down on his back beside her, trying to catch his breath.

He was still too amazed to speak though, just continued to stare at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he'd been so lucky as to experience _that_.

He wanted to feel like that all the time, and now he couldn't stop smiling.

Audrey curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest, and even that touch caressed him with sensual energy.

He figured it probably wouldn't be long before he was hard again.

"You think you can keep going?" he asked Audrey.

She lifted herself up, arching an eyebrow at him, and god, she looked amazing with her cheeks all red, her hair slick with sweat.

"But you just-"

Sam's smile widened into a grin that he just couldn't keep off his face. "Short refractory period," he explained.

"My god, how are you this…" She trailed off, seemingly unable to find the right word.

"Sexy?" Sam supplied.

She gave an awed laugh, and then curled up with him again, bringing her leg way up to rest over his abdomen. Seeing she was that flexible while feeling her heated skin flush against his was definitely turning him on again, making his blood fill and sing with desire.

Sam began kissing her and then pulled her on top of him.

She grabbed hold of him and began pumping him. It hurt for a few seconds, but a wonderful hurt that Sam wanted to last a million years, and then he was thickening, his body ready for more.

He'd taken Audrey, and now he felt the need to have Audrey take him. He wanted to give himself to her, wanted her to own him, to ride him till he couldn't stand it anymore. He needed her to use his body to her heart's content, needed it more than he'd needed anything, maybe even more than he'd had to take her before. Or, that could be his arousal talking. Either way, a drop dead gorgeous woman, the sexiest woman he'd ever seen in his entire life, was now lifting herself up and then sheathing him in her like he was all hers.

Sam arched his hips up into her, letting out a whine. And then she was riding him at a pace that was nearly as unforgiving as the one he'd ridden her at earlier. Sam usually wasn't very loud, but he was screaming from this, from her hands that ran over his body, as if each touch marked him, made him more hers. And she rode him with confidence and joy and it was wonderful to look into her deep brown eyes and see how much she was enjoying him. And god, she was so wet inside from his cum that was already in her, and it was obscene and wonderful, and the sound their bodies made when they came together was something he never wanted to stop hearing.

She was fucking him like he'd never been fucked before, using his fattened cock to her heart's content, and Sam was holding on to her hips, hoping his touch was urging her to ride him harder. Audrey leaned over and was kissing him again, her tongue entering his mouth, and Sam eagerly let her do it, even sucked on her tongue. He couldn't believe he was experiencing this, and it became all the more incredible when she was crying out into his mouth, her nails scraping along his chest, as her walls clenched around him over and over again, and still she kept going, like she just wanted all he was, wanted him to cum in her again. And he would cum in her again. It was what she wanted, it was what she needed. He could feel it from her, feel it from how she used her body to milk his cock for all he was worth and then some.

Sam couldn't help himself and began thrusting into her each time she came down on him, and she let him. He didn't do it out of craving for dominance. He did it just because he _had to_. He had to move, he had to do _something_ , or else his mind would slip into the depths of insanity.

She kissed him till he couldn't breathe, drove him past that point, and Sam wanted her to keep kissing him. He wanted her to go at him till he passed out, and then continue past that. He wanted her to use his body until all life had left him, and then for her to somehow find his spirit and continue fucking it. Sam wanted this to last an eternity. He wanted this to be his Heaven, to be his Hell, to be his everything.

And then he was climaxing again, and she was still bouncing on him and kissing him and Sam was screaming into her open mouth, his eyes squeezed shut, his body contorting beneath her, his hands surely bruising her.

As Sam felt his cum leaving him in brilliant spurts, it all became so much that he passed out.

* * *

Sam came to eventually, feeling warm and fatigued, but not a good fatigued. It was difficult to just move his limbs. Something didn't feel right, but he was so happy about it. Or… happy didn't seem to be the write word. Ecstatic. He was ecstatic. He couldn't think of anything besides Audrey, and though he felt like some of the life had been sucked from him, he couldn't help smiling about it as he slowly opened his eyes.

There was a pleasant sensation on his chest, one that seemed to burrow underneath his skin, down into him till he could barely stand it, and he wished he could feel that everywhere. He looked down, saw a finger running over him and realized that finger was Audrey's. He was glad she was still lying beside him, but for some reason a chill ran through him.

He turned to her, asking, "How long was I out?"

She shrugged, a motion that he really liked. "Not long. Maybe a minute."

Sam tried sitting up, but she lightly pressed him back down onto the bed, and he was too tired to fight her, didn't mentally have it in him either.

"So what now?" he asked.

"I don't know, didn't really plan this far," she teased. "I'm surprised I even got you in bed."

"What? Really?" he questioned, all surprised.

And then Audrey started answering, but it was as if he couldn't hear her, instead heard the blood pounding in his ears, heard a voice that he couldn't make out. And then the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he abruptly turned to the right, tilting his head to look there. Someone was looking at him. That's what his gut was telling him. That voice had died down, and now it was just his heart beating at an incredibly fast pace. It made him feel like he was going to be sick.

No one was there. It was just the light blue wall, some white trim, a white bureau with makeup on it, some clothes hanging out of an open drawer.

But he could feel it. Someone was looking at him.

Audrey touched his shoulder and he jumped.

But instead of asking if he was okay, she just said, "Maybe you should go. You still have that case, right?"

"Yeah…" Sam answered slowly, now gazing all around the room for where the eyes could be coming from.

"And as much fun as you are, I have another shift at the hospital in a bit."

Sam heard her, but didn't take in her words, he was too busy trying to figure out what was going on. Someone had to be watching him. They had to be. It felt like a heavy, predatory gaze was on him, and like he had to run from it, like it was assessing his soul, trying to find out the best way to hurt him. And it would hurt him. It had the intent. It was there in the dark wave of tension that tried to choke him.

The idea of leaving sounded very good all of a sudden, but then it faded, began to clash with the wonderful bliss clouding his mind. He was back in that field of flowers in his head like he had been behind the bar, but now he thought that if he ripped up the flowers he might find something there. He couldn't be sure. His mind wanted to slip away from the idea entirely, and as Audrey continued rubbing his shoulder, it did.

Sam turned to her, grabbed her chin in one hand, and kissed her again before getting up and getting dressed.

After saying his goodbye, he left, and it wrenched at his heart, seemed to physically hurt, a pain he felt deep in his gut. But he did it, he left, but his mind was still on her, still going over every detail, every touch of her skin, the sound of her voice, her warmth, the way she'd made him feel.

Clouds had drifted in, the wind picking up, and Sam shivered against the cold even though he had his jacket on. It seemed to pierce him, and he didn't like it. Not at all.

Once in the Impala he thought he might've just sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the steering wheel, trying to remember how to drive, trying to remember where he'd been going.

 _The motel. Gotta get back to the motel._

He started up the engine, took one last look back at Audrey's house, still not able to take it in, his mind just conjuring up the image of her with her olive skin, and long, wavy brown hair and brown eyes that seemed to have really enjoyed looking at all of him. He liked her eyes a lot better than the ones he'd felt on him in her room. His mind decided focusing on the image of her was was much more pleasant than taking in his surroundings.

But he managed to pull out of the driveway and begin trying to find his way back to the motel; he couldn't precisely remember how'd he gotten to Audrey's, but eventually things started to look a little familiar.

When he was about halfway there one of his cell phones started ringing. A quick look through the glove compartment and he found the right phone, and answered:

"This is Agent Tyler."

"Agent Tyler, this is Sheriff Olson." a woman responded, "One of my deputies says she spoke to you this morning about the Jessica Bowers case."

"Yeah," he answered, hoping his voice didn't sound off - it just seemed impossible to shake how he was feeling, so light, and airy, and just… happy. "I think it might be connected to the Kings' deaths."

Sam was ready to explain himself, but Sheriff Olson just responded, "I think so, too. Got the toxicology report back. Same exact hormone levels as the Kings. That can't be a coincidence."

"No. No, it can't be."

High hormone levels.

It would've made them ecstatic, like they'd taken something.

They would've been happy.

Sam was happy.

"Uh… thanks for the call, Sheriff Olson. I'll… I'll see what I can do with that information."

Sam hung up, and threw the phone into the other seat.

No, she wasn't it. She wasn't. She wasn't. That would mean…

And, no. No! That wasn't the case. It couldn't be. It was impossible.

Sam was _happy_. He was happy.

But he was happy! Like the Kings would've been. Like Jessica Bowers would've been.

Part of him, a part that seemed to be locked away and gagged underneath how amazing he felt, wanted to scream, wanted to curse. Instead he just started laughing, a huge smile on his face.

And then Sam couldn't see.

His heart leapt into his throat, and adrenaline burst through him so quickly he was tingling. In an instant reaction, Sam stepped on the brakes.

He closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths.

 _I can see. I can see. I can see. You're just going crazy. That's it. You're crazy._

Sam opened his eyes again, he _felt_ it, but he was still met with black.

And then his back was arched, his head thrown back as a scream tore from his throat. Sharp pain stabbed into his chest, in three separate places, and it burned, and it just buried itself into him, and then he couldn't breathe. And he couldn't see! He couldn't see!

Sam wanted the pain to stop, wanted it to disappear, and it seemed like his mind was on fire as it tried to keep up with everything he was experiencing. With Audrey, with losing his vision, with this sheer and utter torment.

It went on and on till he couldn't scream anymore, and he was sweating, tears streaming down his face.

He was choking, and it felt like there was something in his lungs, something he had to get out but couldn't. Each attempt at an inhale brought more pain, started to make it feel like his lungs were going to pop, like his chest was being ripped apart.

Blood, there might've been blood. He wasn't sure.

It burned and burned and burned, like fire was in him, eating at his organs. The metal that seemed to be impaling his chest was white-hot, and it was sharp and unforgiving.

It could've been only seconds, but each second felt too long, like any moment of enduring this was more than he could handle. Then there was an impact on the Impala from the back, and his body was thrown forward, his head hitting the wheel.

The pain in his chest immediately left him, but the new pain that immediately began to pound in his head was very real, and the way he wanted to laugh once he got his breath back was very real.

And still, Sam couldn't see.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam's vision came back to him as he heard a knock on the window that made him jump. He thought he would've been too tired, too out of it, to do even that, but apparently the adrenaline was helping some. He tilted his head towards the window, ignoring how his head hurt for now, and saw a thin old man, his wispy white hair being blown about by the wind. His lined face held concern, and Sam rolled down the window.

"Are you alright?" he asked him, his voice wizened and kind.

Sam started to nod, then thought that might be a bad idea, and answered in a rough voice, "Yeah, yeah I am."

"You're forehead's a bit red, you sure?"

"Just bumped it. I've had worse."

The old man straightened, maybe looking back at the damage, and Sam took the opportunity to wipe his sleeve over his face, mopping up the tears that were there from the other incident.

"I'm sorry about this," the man said, leaning down to peer at Sam again, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You stopped so abruptly. I guess I wasn't able to react fast enough."

"Don't worry about it. Let me check the damage."

The old man stepped away, allowing Sam to get out of the Impala.

He looked over the damage. The Impala had it worse than the other car, a white Honda Accord: there was only a small dent in the front, whereas with the Impala a tail light was completely busted.

Despite all the other crap he'd been dealing with and the case Sam's instant thought was, God, Dean's gonna kill me.

"Do you want to get the police involved?" the old man eventually asked.

Sam shook his head, and instantly regretted it, wincing as he put a hand to his forehead. He was gonna have a nice bump from that, and a bruise probably.

"No," he answered, not wanting to be anywhere near the police in this town unless he was pretending to be an FBI agent. He didn't really want to be near the police anywhere. He'd probably get arrested, especially if they realized who he was and got a look inside the Impala. The fake IDs or the weapons alone could do him in. "The damage isn't too bad. My brother's a mechanic," he lied. "He'll take care of it. Sorry about all this."

"It's not problem, really. I just hope you're okay."

"Are you?" Sam asked.

He nodded. "I may not be as spry as you, but I'm not as breakable as you might think. Gonna take more than me rear-ending some poor soul for Death to start getting any funny ideas."

Sam looked him over quickly, just to make sure, and he seemed to be telling the truth, so he thanked his hand, apologized for all this, and then got back in the Impala again.

It wasn't till a few minutes after that Sam started shaking. It was a small accident, but after everything it seemed to be the final straw. If not for that one feeling battling everything, that urge to just jump and up and down and scream his pleasure, he'd probably be tearing his hair out and gnashing his teeth like some sort of lunatic.

He made it back to the motel, and Dean noticed the bump on his head right away.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, closing his laptop, and getting up from his seat at the table to gently poke at Sam's forehead.

He winced.

"Car accident. Got rear-ended. Nothing serious."

"So I let you drive for the first time in ages, and you get Baby into an accident?" he asked, Sam being given even more whiplash from his tone.

"Hey, it's not like I meant to do it. I couldn't see, and-"

"What do you mean you couldn't see?"

Sam shoved past Dean and took a seat on the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table as he leaned his head back, ignoring the way it hurt his neck at first.

"I don't know," he muttered, choking up as he thought back to it. But still, it was difficult to keep a stupid smile off his face. He did, thank god he did. "I was driving, and then… then my vision went black. Don't know why."

Dean acted like he didn't hear him, just muttered as he pulled on his jacket, "I can't believe you got Baby hurt." He stood in front of him now, hand thrust out demandingly. "Keys."

Sam groaned, not even bothering to argue with him as he passed him the keys. He was too tired, just wanted to fall asleep for a few days.

His mind wandered, going to Audrey, going to the pain in his chest, going to the car accident, none of it making sense, and all of it overwhelming him. And then Dean was in front of him.

"So I can fix the Impala," he told him, his tone as serious as that of a doctor giving a serious, yet treatable diagnosis.

"Kinda figured."

Dean just sighed, and Sam asked, "Can I talk to you?"

"Dude, this better not be like our conversation I had with you this morning."

"It's not," Sam assured, lifting his head up to look at him. Or, he didn't think it was going to be. "There have been these things happening to me recently, really weird things."

Dean huffed and took a seat at the table again, and Sam might've imagined it, but he thought he winced. "Yeah, like you getting to third base with someone."

"Whatever, it's not about that. I… I keep feeling pain, like, I don't know, like someone's hurting me."

Dean didn't respond to that, instead said, "What, you're not going to say anything?"

"What the hell do you mean?" Sam asked, raising his voice, sitting up now and leaning towards his brother. "I was just talking to you."

He was given a perplexed look. "No, I made that comment about third base, and then nothing from you. I get it if you don't really want to talk, but-"

"Dean, I was talking! I was talking about… about being hurt, about whatever the hell has been going on with me."

And somehow, it was as if his brother didn't hear all of it, only the first and last parts.

"Look, you don't have to yell. I just think it's weird you got third base with someone so fast. That's more my MO."

Sam breathed out heavily through his nose and clenched his jaw. A picture of punching Dean in the face came to mind, and it felt very satisfying at the moment.

"It's Audrey," he finally said.

"What?"

"Audrey, the nurse, she's the one who gave me the blowjob, and I… I hooked up with her today."

His brother hissed in a breath that drew Sam's mind back to the conversation he'd had with Sheriff Olson, and then he was out of his seat, leaning down to look carefully into Sam's eyes. He winced, apparently not liking what he saw.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, about Audrey," Dean began, "she's kinda weird."

Sam wanted to agree with him, but his tongue didn't seem to like that, so he just scrunched up his face and pulled his head back in confusion.

He went on, "She moved here a month ago, okay? And she got a job almost immediately, and everyone seems to like her."

"And? She's nice."

"Do you think her boss and co-workers would really like her if she didn't show up for work half the time?"

Sam wanted to immediately say yes, but then held that in, realized that that wasn't right.

"Huh."

"Exactly."

Sam sat, pondering that for a minute, really wishing he had an ice pack for his head or maybe some painkillers, but he was too exhausted to get up and get the latter.

"I talked to the sheriff," Sam started, trying to get his head to work properly and stop dancing around with misplaced joy. "They got the toxicology report for Jessica Bowers back. Same hormone levels as the Kings."

Dean's face turned pale, and he moved Sam's legs aside so he could sink down onto the coffee table. He wiped a hand over his face and Sam's stomach dropped.

"And Audrey was the one to find the Kings," Dean nearly groaned. He sighed, lowered his head. "Sam, how are you feeling?"

"My head hurts-"

"Not physically," he clarified. "How are you feeling?"

Sam swallowed roughly, not wanting to answer.

He smiled. "Happy."

"Fuck."

Dean got up and started pacing, but Sam knew what he was thinking. However, Sam could barely think it himself and fear ran down his spine even as he continued to smile.

"It's her, Sam. It's her. Audrey's what we're after."

"She's…" he started, unable to go on, his mind drawing back to the beautiful fire that had consumed his body when he'd been with her. He yanked his mind away from that, as if drawing on an incredibly heavy chain, his mind kicking and screaming in protest the whole time. Eventually, he choked out, "She's a succubus."

* * *

 **A/N: Getting close to the end now! Only two chapters left after this one.**


	6. Chapter 6

"That would explain some things," Dean just stated simply. "But…" He shook his head, seeming unable to go on. "I don't know, man. When I… Yesterday, I didn't see a woman."

"Who did you see?"

He shrugged, tilting his head away and scratching self-consciously at the back of his head.

"I'm…" His cheeks turned pink, and he awkwardly cleared his throat before going on, purposefully avoiding his gaze, "I'm a little sore."

Sam straightened in astonishment, now also thinking about what had happened to him yesterday. Could it somehow be connected? Was that how these kinds of demons worked? What he couldn't make sense of was who the incubus would be. It must've been an incubus that had attacked Dean, maybe had even attacked Sam by some sort of psychic projection of will.

"Dean, was it a man?" he asked, voice rough with emotion, hating that they had to discuss this.

A nod, his cheeks reddening even more. "I think so."

"So what do we do?"

"We find Audrey, we talk to her, torture her if necessary, find out who the other demon is, and then we'll kill 'em."

Sam inwardly winced at the idea of torturing Audrey. He wasn't even sure why he couldn't feel angry about all this. He'd been… assaulted, and he was _happy_ about it, and he knew that was wrong, that that wasn't right, and it scared him, but not enough to get rid of the feeling. It was as if he had no control over it. Just like he hadn't had any control about following Audrey outside the bar the other night.

"Where'd you hook up with her?" Dean asked suddenly.

Sam answered, though he was pretty sure his brother already knew the answer, "Her house."

"Great, let's get over there, get her in a salt circle and hope she talks."

Dean went back over to the table and closed his laptop, grabbed his jacket and started putting it on. Sam was slowly getting up now, his head throbbing as he did so.

"She's not gonna be there," he explained.

"What? Why not?"

"She said she had a shift at the hospital."

"Okay, and she only shows up like half the time."

They started leaving the motel room, continuing to discuss this. Outside the sky had darkened even more and rain was coming down in a lazy drizzle.

"I don't know, I just feel like she's there," Sam reasoned, getting into the Impala after Dean unlocked it.

"So I take the hospital, you take the house," his brother reasoned.

"No. We do this together," he told him, grasping his shoulder. "I don't want… I don't want either of us to get hurt again."

Dean took hold of Sam's hand that was on him, and gave it a firm squeeze.

"We won't. We'll have each other's backs. And then… And then maybe we can talk about all this. Properly."

Sam clenched his jaw, trying to not think about any of it, trying to get his brain back on track. When they let go of each other, instead of feeling more confident for knowing his brother was going to be by his side, Sam felt a loss that he couldn't explain. It was as if Dean wouldn't be with him, or he wasn't with him, and he hated it. Dean was with him. Dean was right next to him. But Sam missed his brother more than he'd ever missed anyone in his entire life. He glanced out the window, not wanting him to see the sudden tears in his eyes.

* * *

When they got to the hospital they made sure to carry in their duffle bags which contained salt, shotguns loaded with salt rounds, and a jug of holy water each; Sam had the demon killing knife sheathed in his belt, and his jacket was thankfully long enough to hide it.

They were led to a waiting room after explaining that they were FBI agents, and that they needed to speak to Audrey Miller urgently. Dean didn't want to wait around for her to attack, whereas Sam would be content to just sit there for her all night, to let her come to him so he could tear down her hair, slam her against a wall, and…

He shook his head a little to clear his thoughts, and then winced at the way that aggravated the bump on his head and his sore neck.

"After we're done with all this," Dean began, "Maybe you should get checked out. You could have a concussion."

Sam had had a concussion before, and knew the symptoms, and he didn't think he was feeling them. It was hard to tell when his head just started tingling of its own accord whenever he lost focus and couldn't rein in his thoughts.

"I'm fine," he said. "I just don't get what happened earlier."

"What do you mean? Audrey got to you."

"No, with the accident Dean. I couldn't see."

His brother ignored him, and Sam let out a frustrated growl, which earned him a confused look.

Then something tugged at his gut and he abruptly stood up, Dean doing the same.

Warmth washed over him, and his body began tingling, and he felt drawn to leave the waiting room. He wasn't drawn out of curiosity, it was out of knowing that wherever his feet took him now he'd be warm and comforted and blissful till the end of his days. So Sam let that urge lead him. It felt like the right thing to do, more right than anything in his entire life. Anything but that grew out of focus for him. He _knew_ Dean was at his side, following the same path set out before them, but it didn't matter. It wasn't something his mind took in. It was just his brother. His brother had nothing to do with where he would end up, in a state of complete bliss.

Sam wasn't sure how much time passed before the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he realized something was very, _very_ wrong.

He didn't recognize the hallway he suddenly found himself in or how he'd gotten there. That scared him, and that was enough to snap him out of it.

Audrey. It had to be Audrey.

Or the incubus.

Sam twirled around, trying to get a handle on his surroundings, and to his relief, Dean was still there. His brother's eyes were out of focus, like he was seeing something far away. At least they still had their bags with them.

Sam waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing.

Snapped his fingers. Still nothing.

Grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"Dean! Dean, come on. Dean."

His brother frowned and then his gaze focused on him.

"Huh?"

Then they heard footsteps. Dean immediately came back to himself at that and instantly reached into his back, pulling out the shotgun, and Sam grabbed the demon-killing knife.

The part of the hospital they were in was dimly lit, the hallway empty, and there were rooms evenly spread out on each side, and one directly at the end of the hall. Audrey came out of the room at the end. Sam noticed that she had her hair down, and he almost collapsed at the wild rush of pleasure that spread through him at the thought of getting to run his hands through it again.

He growled at himself, and got into a proper stance: feet shoulder-width apart, his free hand out in front of him as a defensive measure, and the knife held at chest level.

"Aw, how cute," Audrey teased. "You think you have a fighting chance."

"Maybe if you cut the mind game crap we would," Dean responded.

Even now Sam could feel her will pressing down on him, that haze of bliss that he would love to be consumed by. It'd be so easy. Just give in, just take her, or let her have him. He could be happy. Sam knew he'd most likely die, figured that she had drained away some of his life earlier which was why he was so fatigued, but the warmth he felt made him want to die. It'd be beautiful, wonderful. And it would be intimate. He'd be inside of her as he died, and he decided that was the way to go.

 _No, no! That's not you,_ he told himself. _That's her._

"Where's the incubus?" Sam asked, drawing himself away from that heat.

Audrey pouted, and it was very cute. "Oh, I don't know what you mean."

"Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Dean explained. "Talk and we won't have to torture you."

Audrey stepped closer, and Sam's instincts screamed at him to step back, but he couldn't. She stood before the two of them now, and reached out to touch both of them, caressing their faces. Sam heard his brother moan, and now he was moaning too, unable to deny how good that single touch felt, pleasure flashing its way through him almost violently. His stance loosened and he nearly put the knife away, thinking there were much better ways he could use his hands.

But he drew himself back from it, tried to pretend that this wasn't real, that the pleasure wasn't real.

 _She's just a demon,_ he told himself.

He knew that wasn't true, knew that Audrey was much more than just a regular demon, but he had to pretend in order to stay sane. Besides, Sam had proven that he was much more powerful than demons. He wasn't their victim. They were his.

He pretended to be swayed by this even more, leaning into her touch, opening his mouth wider, letting his eyes slide closed. But he'd taken account of where she was, of where Dean was.

Audrey's touch ran down, over his chest, and then down, down, till she was playfully tugging at his belt. Nausea welled up in him.

Before she could do anything further, Sam shoved Dean aside with his elbow, and pushed against Audrey's abdomen with his free hand. She and Dean both stumbled away from him, and hopefully he was coming out of it. He stepped to the right, placing himself protectively in front of his brother.

Audrey had nothing to say this time, just threw herself at him, and Sam had expected a punch, a kick, a shove, something violent, but instead she jumped on him, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. She grabbed his hair and tilted his head back and licked his neck. With her other hand she grabbed his wrist, the one holding the knife. Sam struggled with her, which ended up with them on the ground, him on top of her.

"Want to go again?" she asked.

Even though this was going to cause him a lot of pain, Sam slammed his head forward into her nose. She let go of the knife with a cry, and he managed to slash into her shoulder before she kicked him off of her. His head ached and he stumbled to his feet in a drunken manner, his voice leaving him in a pained grunt. Sam was satisfied to see blood running from her now misshapen nose, and it was beginning to stain the light blue of her scrubs

She started laughing and Sam couldn't tell if it was because she was genuinely amused at his attempts, or if she didn't know what else to do now that he wasn't under her control at the moment.

 _Bang!_

Sam jumped, not realizing Dean was back in the game now. He'd shot Audrey, and now she was screaming, smoke rising from where the salt round had gotten her.

Weird light and colors appeared in Sam's vision, and he wasn't sure what it was from, whether it was from headbutting her when he was already injured, if it was purely from her, or a combination of both. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and it blurred till it was just her, a shining light that was beautiful even as she bled. She got up from the floor as he collapsed to his knees.

Sam was completely helpless as he slowly turned his head, as if moving through mud, and saw Audrey take Dean's face into her hands, and then kiss him. He smiled, and then she turned, slamming his head down into the floor. His brother passed out. Audrey came up to him now, also taking his face in her hands, and Sam breathed in deeply at the sensation, his muscles trembling with the urge to lunge at her and the urge to stay still, do whatever she wanted. He was so tired, so scared, so blissful.

And then she kissed him. There was a hand around his throat, and he loved it, wanted that hand to be there, stealing his breath even more viciously than her lips did.

Sam closed his eyes, moaning against her mouth.

Pounding in his lungs, pounding in his head, dizziness, and then nothing.

* * *

 **A/N: Only one chapter left after this! You guys are gonna hate me for the ending. If you can't handle plot twists and maybe feeling betrayed by the writer, get out now. Though, I love all of you. I swear. Even Sam.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is the last chapter of the story, and keep in mind, the ending is far from happy and there's a major plot twist. But no character deaths, so you don't have to worry about that.**

* * *

Sam was in a storage room when he came to. The lighting was dim, and there were shelves upon shelves of medical equipment crowding the space. He was handcuffed to one of the metal units in the center of the room, one wrist on each end so that his arms were spread out. He pulled against his restraints, testing the sturdiness of them. The metal shelving didn't even move, and a quick glance down showed him that it had been screwed into the floor, probably to keep it steady. His jacket was missing, and the sleeves on his blue and white plaid shirt had been rolled up.

Someone cleared their throat, and Sam jumped, looking in front of him. A tall man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes leaned against the door, and Sam wasn't sure why, but he instantly found him attractive. His jawline was magnificent, his cheek bones were gorgeous, and Sam realized he wasn't wearing anything at all. Unable to stop himself, his eyes traveled his toned body, and then he realized what was going on.

This was the incubus.

It suddenly felt like Sam's right forearm was warming up, like he was holding it near a fire. And then red hot agony poured over his skin, and he grit his teeth against a scream. It felt wet for some reason, but when he twisted his head to look at his arm, it was fine.

That was nearly enough to make him start screaming entirely.

Then that pain left as the feeling of water being poured over him ceased to exist, and now there was just a dull burning ache. For now, the incubus did nothing, which confused Sam, he just watched. Was he doing this? But that didn't make sense. What he was feeling now was nothing sexual.

 _What's happening to me?_

He grunted, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, as he felt one slash on his arm and then another. The first was near his wrist and the second the inner part of his elbow. Each slash went all around, one end meeting the other. His upper lip trembled as he tried not to cry, his throat hurting immensely. His heart was pounding, the blood rushing in his ears, and he was so scared, more scared than he'd ever been in his life.

And then it felt like his arm was being torn to shreds.

Sam did scream then, his body arching, and he struggled to get out of his restraints.

He wanted to cry out for help, but he knew the incubus would do nothing to help him. The demon, though a sexual being, might even be enjoying this. All demons were sadistic in one way or another.

His arm started going numb, and he was able to stifle his screams enough to speak:

"Where's… _agh!_ Where's Audrey?"

"I am Audrey," he answered, coming down to crouch beside him. He ran his hand over Sam's arm, must have known that was the one hurting by the way he looked at it.

The pain was still there, the terrifying numbness, and cold, so much cold that froze him in the wake the fire left, but his fingers brushing against his skin felt so good his whole body went slack, and Sam wanted nothing more than to feel that touch all over.

"But in this form, I prefer to be called Luke," he went on. "I'm a demon, Sam Winchester."

"How did…"

"Oh, it's obvious. You walk into town, dig into a case that seems unlikely to be solved, then come to confront me with that demon killing knife of yours. Your tattoo did help give it away as well. I may not be the type of demon you're used to dealing with, but talk gets out. I know of the Winchesters, and I know you're one of them."

"So… So if you can shapeshift, what are you?" Sam asked.

"A succubus, an incubus, whichever you prefer, really," he answered softly, taking his face into his hands, wiping some of his sweat away.

Sam struggled to get away even as he felt pleasure radiate out of Luke's hands and into him. He wanted more of it, wanted to be filled with it, wanted…

 _No, no!_

"I can shapeshift, gendershift, alter the sexual effects I have on your mind. That last part was very fun, 'cause you, you're more dominant, aren't you?"

Sam just frowned at him, and then wrenched his head out of his grip as the tearing in his forearm ran lower, to his wrist. Numbness and cold still followed, but it felt like someone had jabbed a blade into him and was now ripping and pulling.

"Look at me."

The pain stopped immediately, and Sam felt all of his muscles relaxing as Luke roughly grabbed his head to make their eyes meet.

Sam didn't like looking into those eyes. They were filled with warmth, but warmth that sought to take him against his will, that sought to violate him. But did it really matter? If this was Audrey, she'd already done so much to him.

No, it did matter 'cause now he was fully aware of what was happening and he didn't want it. He probably hadn't even wanted it before, but thinking about that grew too confusing.

"Even as a woman, I made you submissive. All the lore says that succubi seduce men and get fucked by them, lie underneath them. That idea that women have to be submissive is just so incredibly sexist, so I thought I'd mess around with your head a bit, change the way you like things. And you did like it. You loved it."

Sam swallowed roughly, feeling like he was going to be sick. He was starting to shake now.

And there was no way to argue. Even thinking back to it now he was filled with pleasant, blissful warmth.

Luke let go of Sam's hands and started unbuttoning his shirt, and that was when Sam realized he'd forgotten the white t-shirt he'd been wearing underneath, had left it at Audrey's place. He spread the shirt open and then ran his hands along him.

Sam felt familiar, delicious pressure in his pelvis, heat and desire twining through his body, making him feel so full of it that he ached. A moan left him as he leaned into his touch.

"Wh-where's Dean?" he panted out.

"Another floor, another supply closet. Doesn't matter really. I'm going to kill him, after I kill you. I was going to kill you earlier, outside the bar, but gosh, you're fun. I decided to take my time with you, eat from you a few times just to really enjoy it."

"And Dean?"

"Oh, your big brother I fucked yesterday afternoon. Such a good boy. Opened his legs for me right away. Just as you're going to."

He rubbed his thumbs over Sam's nipples just as he opened his mouth to tell him to stop. But instead, another moan came out, and he involuntarily arched his hips upwards, dying to be touched.

Luke chuckled softly, and ran his hands down to tug at his belt in a teasing manner.

"Yes," Sam breathed, even as his mind screamed no.

The rational part of him felt like it had chains wrapped around it, holding it back, weighing it down, and though it wasn't gagged, its voice was very, very far away so Sam could barely hear it. But he was screaming inside, wanting to break free; that much he knew.

Luke slowly undressed him, starting with his boots and his socks, and when he got to his belt, he ran his hands all over the prominent bulge in his jeans first, making Sam whine. God, Luke was gorgeous, and his hands were nice and large, and Sam just wanted _out_ of his clothes!

"P-please," he gasped out. "Please."

"Please what?"

Sam grunted, pulled at the handcuffs holding him. He didn't want this, right? The incubus started undoing his belt, and that's when he decided that he really, really did. Or maybe he hadn't decided it. Luke had decided it for him, he thought. Sam had never wanted a man like this before, had never felt himself aching from him, his blood boiling, his cock thick with desire.

He still wasn't undressing him, and it made Sam growl.

"Undress me already," he begged.

Luke smiled at Sam and it was the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. He was happy that Sam wanted this, and it made warmth spread throughout his chest, glad that he could please him. He undid the button and zipper on his jeans, and then he was sliding them off his legs, along with his boxers. Luke did his best to run his hands over him as he did so, and it made Sam shiver.

"Too bad I can't get your shirt off," he commented once he shoved Sam's pants aside and settled in between his legs. He grabbed the handcuffs around his wrists, and to do so he'd had to put his face extremely close to Sam's. Sam wanted to reach up and kiss him, but he wasn't sure if Luke wanted that. He hadn't told him to do that, so he'd stay still for now, but his mouth was open as he fought with himself. "These pesky handcuffs are in the way," he finished.

"Th-then take them off."

Luke reached down and tapped him on the nose. Such a simple innocent gesture shouldn't have had the power to make him start writhing beneath him, but it did.

"Can't do that. You're strong, Sam. Stronger than my other victims. I can't take the chance of you escaping."

Sam looked up into his eyes, telling him what might've been the truth at that point: "I don't want to escape. I want you."

Luke leaned against him, holding himself over him with one hand against the metal shelf Sam's head rested again, and with the other hand he was trailing his fingers gently over the inner part of his left thigh. Sam closed his eyes and let out a long moan, bringing his leg to the side involuntarily. It felt as if pleasure was digging deep into him from this, nearly burning, and he wanted more, wanted it till he couldn't take it and he was screaming, wanted it till he'd lost his voice from screaming. But it felt too good, and he already couldn't stand it. Moving his leg to the side opened his legs for Luke, exposed him even more, and his stomach muscles quivered with excitement.

"Good," he praised, his voice low and rough with desire that made Sam tingle. "Very good."

A throaty moan left Sam as he ran his hand upwards. So close, so close! But still he didn't touch him in between his legs. He seemed to be enjoying touching his thigh for now.

"I'm going to be rough with you, Sam."

Sam groaned at the very idea of that. He'd never had sex with a man before, but he could guess how everything worked, and dear god, did he want it.

"You would like that, wouldn't you? You liked when I was rough earlier as a woman."

He nodded, licking his lips.

Then Luke was kissing him and Sam instantly forgot how to breathe. His lips seemed to warm up from feeling his against him. Luke's lips were soft, but his kiss was abrasive. It was nearly hard for Sam to keep up, to push back against him, to show that he wanted him.

 _More, more, more…_

He wanted out of his restraints, wanted to hold Luke, run his hands over his body. Oh, but he loved being restrained. Luke could do absolutely anything to him, and the idea excited him, lit up his brain as much as the kiss did. He pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth, and Sam opened his mouth for him. Luke pulled away for just an instant, just to lick his tongue over him, and then his tongue was dipping into him languidly, and Sam exhaled into his mouth.

God, he wanted Luke, wanted him to use his body till he couldn't walk anymore.

Then Luke was touching his cock, pumping him with a fierce grip, and Sam shuddered. He was unable to kiss back anymore, was too taken in the throes of pleasure, so he just let Luke have at his mouth. The incubus was moaning into him just as Sam was, his tongue claiming territory that had already been thoroughly explored earlier. Heat washed through him along with fiery tingles, which traveled through him, from his lips, down his throat, deep, deep, down into his cock, which was twitching from the treatment it was receiving. Luke's hand felt so wonderful on him, so, so wonderful. He wanted it to stay there forever. And he wanted his tongue to stay in his mouth forever. He pressed his lips against his again, and through the haze of sheer bliss clouding his mind, stealing control from his limbs, he kissed Luke back. His warm lips against his was nearly enough to drive him insane when paired with the way he was now pumping him strongly.

Luke did eventually pull away, even took his hands off of Sam, and stood.

Sam pulled at his restraints, trying to follow, and a whine climbed up from his throat.

"Don't go!" he cried, thinking Luke was going to do just that, that he was going to leave him like this, unsatisfied and so full of want.

Luke was searching through the scrubs that must've been his when he was Audrey. They were discarded off to the side. He pulled out a pocket knife, and switched the blade up. Fear froze itself along Sam's spine, but the ice was soon melted by the heat of arousal.

"What's… what's that for?" Sam asked, having a hard time getting the words out. He could barely understand what was going on at this point. Just knew that Luke wasn't touching him and that he needed more.

"Well," he began, tapping the flat of the blade against his palm as he came back over, "I admit I find myself a little unprepared. Don't have everything I need. I was thinking I could take it from you."

Sam had absolutely no idea what that meant, but he nodded his head anyway, as if he understood.

"Do it," he told him.

Luke smirked. "Hmm… So willing. So _gorgeous_ all spread out for me. You know, most of the men I fuck aren't this good looking. Well, your brother, he's certainly up there with you. He was a joy yesterday. He likes getting spanked. Did you know that? He told me himself, and I was hardly influencing him at that point. What about you? What do you like?"

Sam frowned, not liking that he was being asked to think about anything. And he did have to think about this. There wasn't anything in particular that he liked, just…

"I like pleasing my partner," he answered.

"Then please me by lying still," he responded, getting in between his legs again.

Before Sam could respond, the knife was drawn across his abdomen, and he let out a cry of pain from the sharp sting of it. The knife went deep, but he didn't worry about it. He simply tensed and waited for it to be over, wanting to please Luke.

He was smiling at him, and it made Sam feel really good. Knowing he was doing what was wanted of him seemed to fight the pain, and his erection didn't even go away. In fact, he might've gotten harder.

Luke pulled the knife from him, hot blood pouring from the wound. Then, after placing the knife aside he grabbed his legs with confidence and determination making pleasure shoot through Sam in a wild torrent till he he grew light-headed. But still, he watched what he was doing, curious about all this. The incubus did something then that Sam didn't expect. After placing his legs over his shoulders, he brought his hands down and dipped his fingers into the bloody mess on his abdomen. A jolt ran up from his toes at that and his cock began spitting precum. It was beautiful to watch his fingers run through his blood, getting coated in them. Absolutely beautiful.

When he deemed it was sufficient for one reason or another he brought his hand lower. For a split second Sam thought he was going to touch his leaking cock, maybe fondle his balls as if they belonged to him, but instead he brought his soaking fingers to his rim.

"Fuck," Sam exclaimed as he ran his middle finger along his rim in circles. He was tingling delightfully, his nerves going into overdrive since he had never been touched there before.

Then that thick finger was pushing into him, and a loud cry left Sam's mouth. It was a feeling he hadn't known existed, not even with all that had happened to him in the shower the day before. This was more real, more fantastic. Then that finger touched something inside him and he let out a choked scream. Pleasure traveled in an arc from deep inside of him to his cock, and Luke was _stroking_ him, and it felt so good that Sam started crying. He was unable to keep the tears at bay. It felt so good it hurt, and he wanted to die just feeling that. The pleasure seared his nerves till they were screaming, and Sam nearly started begging for mercy, but he needed _more_.

Luke's finger left him, and more tears fell. Then he was being stretched even more, and it started hurting. Looking down he realized Luke had put three fingers in him, getting his body used to this. Now he thrusted his fingers in and out of him, not hitting that spot every time, but Sam didn't care because he was _touching_ him. He was _in_ him. And he wanted his cock in him too. His cock looked big. Not as big as his, but a more than decent size, still long and thick. His insides throbbed at the thought. This position was beginning to really pull at the muscles in his back and his legs, but it was beyond worth it.

He wasn't sure how long the incubus spent stretching him out. Sam was too lost in all of it, but he had gotten used to the sensations a bit, had gotten himself to stop crying.

"Where are those tears of yours, Sam?" he asked as he positioned himself at his opening. "I want them."

So Sam started crying again as he began pushing into him. His body wanted Luke so badly, was so completely relaxed, that him entering him didn't even hurt. The blood must've helped too. The demon just slowly slid into him, filling him up, making Sam scream. When he was buried to the hilt in him he leaned forward and licked the tears from Sam's cheeks, making him tremble, his mouth open as he cried out. His tongue was splendid, his cock was splendid. Bliss overtook his mind, making Sam feel pleasantly feverish. And then Luke started thrusting.

He wasn't gentle with him. He pulled out and then thrust into him with bruising force, and then he kept doing it, and Sam arched into him as much as he could, loving the way his ass was getting pounded. With each thrust he brushed against his prostate, and Sam could barely stand the feeling. The pleasure in his body, his mind, was violent now, tearing through him, burning, claiming, till it owned him. He was drowning in it, being torn apart by it, eaten. Nothing else mattered besides this. Luke was hot against him, inside him, his skin nearly scalding to him compared to that of a woman's. He was kissing him again, biting his lips roughly, and then he was marking up his face and his neck. There was nothing Sam could do but scream.

All his muscles started tensing, and he felt so unbelievably close. Luke reached down and started pumping his cock again, and now Sam couldn't even scream, couldn't breathe, just stared up into Luke's hungry, blue eyes in awe. His stomach muscles were quivering now. So much pleasure filled him that it was too much to handle, and he'd be happy if Luke killed him right then and there. And then his insides were clenching around him, there was pressure just beneath his balls, and pleasure jolted throughout his entire body so violently it was as if it had stabbed him. And it kept stabbing him, over and over, thick, ropy spurts of cum shooting out of his cock.

And Luke was still moving his body against his, still pumping him, forcing his body to stay aroused, and it _hurt_. Oh god, it hurt! He didn't want him to touch him. Even his lips against his jaw hurt. Sam started screaming again, and Luke ran his tongue over him to his ear, and growled, letting him know that he wasn't done with him yet.

This pain broke Sam from his psychic hold on him, long enough to gain a semblance of control over himself.

He was trembling fiercely and shaking, each touch bringing torment that he didn't know how to get through.

But he did, and he did something he wished he'd had the control to think of earlier. It was difficult with Luke still touching him, still plowing into him like he had been before. Or no, not exactly as he had been before. He was being more violent with him, and now he was biting his ear. Sam shouted as quickly as he could, words bleeding into each other:

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos_!"

He wasn't sure how he'd gotten through it without Luke stopping him, or even actively trying to. He thought after a few words he would've placed his mouth over his again to eat his words.

Now that he'd done what he had to he started slipping into that warm blissful embrace again, letting it fill him just like the agony of over-stimulation did.

But then he realized something.

It hadn't worked.

Luke was still there, still touching him, still fucking him like he was practically trying to beat Sam like this, to kill him. Sam cried out, pulled at his restraints some more. It just _hurt_! But it felt so unbelievably good. But this wasn't right, none of it was right. The exorcism should've worked.

 _Oh god, why didn't it work?_

Luke went at him even harder, their skin slapping together, and he tugged at his cock as if trying to rip another orgasm out of him. And then the incubus was cumming inside of him, and it was hot, burning for the first second, and Sam couldn't stop screaming, and Luke was growling, biting his neck, his head tilted so his teeth were around his throat, and it choked him.

Luke pulled out of him and let go, allowing Sam's legs to drop back down to the floor. And then he was smiling, caressing Sam's face, placing some of his sweaty hair behind his ears.

"Hang in there, Sammy," he murmured, his voice changing slightly, lowering, becoming less beautiful. His appearance changed, too, becoming something he found horrific. "I'm not done with you yet."

Sam's stomach sank, his heart skipped a beat, ice gripped his soul, and adrenaline shot through him so quickly and powerfully he was tingling from it.

Red eyes that glowed like the very fires of Hell bore into him as his surroundings dripped into non-existence like candle wax. There was darkness, and Sam's eyes didn't have to adjust, as if they'd truly been seeing it the whole time. Lightning flashed, and he felt metal beneath him and against his back. Still, he remained handcuffed, and his forearms were numb and on fire all at once.

Lucifer.

Sam was shivering now, and moaning out his despair, not understanding.

The Cage.

He was in the Cage.

 _No, no, I'm not in the Cage. I'm not._

"Send me back!" he shouted at the Devil. "Send. Me. Back!"

 _Dean, gotta save Dean. The incubus… The incubus is gonna kill him. Dean. Where's Dean?_

He looked around for his brother, and he couldn't find him, and it was like his heart had been torn from him.

" _Send me back!_ "

Fingers were underneath his chin, lifting his head up. Luke's fingers. No, no. Lucifer's fingers. _Lucifer_. Oh _god_ , it was _Lucifer_.

Sam started dry heaving even as Satan wrenched his head up towards him. His stomach was empty, so nothing came up.

Blood still flowed from the wound in his stomach, his own cum was splattered on him, and Lucifer's cum and his own blood were dripping out of his swollen rim. His entire body was covered in sweat. But even if none of that was on him or in him he still would've felt just as gross as he did now, just as tainted, just as tarnished and ruined and destroyed.

"There is no going back, Sammy," he told him. "It was always… just… _me_."

At those words, blood from his stomach came up in his mouth, and he choked on it. It coated his lips and dribbled down onto his chin.

Instead of letting go of him in disgust, Lucifer leaned forward, licking the blood from his chin up to his trembling lips and then he kissed him roughly. Sam screamed into his mouth, tried pulling his head back, but there was nowhere for him to go and Lucifer's grips was tight.

He pulled away from him, licking at his reddened lips, and then he was caressing his body, his cold touch burning through him.

"See, I wanted to make you think you were out of the Cage. All those moments where you felt pain, or that time you were taking a shower, that's when I was, well, I was messing up a bit. Oops. You're hard to control, and you don't go down easy. You were fighting with me even when you didn't know it." He pointed at him vaguely as he went on, "Oh, and sorry about your arms. I just had the need to skin 'em, you know?"

Sam twisted his head to glance at his right forearm, the one that had been hurting earlier, clenching his jaw as he saw the skin was completely missing, and he was bleeding profusely. The awful thing that was natural human curiosity had him looking to the left, with the same result.

All of it was difficult to wrap his mind around.

The Cage. He was in the Cage.

His memories were flooding back to him, as if finally being released from wherever they had been held. Saying yes to the Devil in Detroit, Lucifer killing Castiel and Bobby, trying to kill Dean, Sam jumping into the pit. All the torture and the rape and the screaming. And cold. So much cold. Cold in him, on him, breaking him, ruining him.

But now he had memories from what Lucifer had done to him. Audrey, Luke, Dean.

That would explain the times Dean had ignored his issues.

They hadn't been real.

No, no.

Dean hadn't been real.

Still, Sam had to ask.

"Dean, he… He didn't actually get raped, did he?"

"Nope, your brother's topside," he answered. "Maybe with that slut Lisa and her son of a bitch Ben if he listened to you."

Sam growled at him for his insults, and that earned him a stinging slap in the face. Then he felt the hot flow of blood from his sensitive cheek.

The fallen archangel grabbed Sam's jaw with one hand and with the other he began to stroke his hair. Sam wanted to cry from how horrible each touch felt.

"Now, that last part," Lucifer went on, drawing closer and leaning down so his lips were near his, " _that_ was real as I'm sure you're aware. I inserted myself into your consciousness, decided to play the part of Luke to get to fuck you when you were compliant. And what a good slut you were. So willing, so needy, so delicious. I know I messed up in the beginning there, let reality bleed through. Almost ruined the moment for a bit, but with a little focus you were all mine. Then again, you were mine to begin with, weren't you? You were mine even before the day you were born. Sam Winchester, the Boy King, the boy with the demon blood, my vessel."

Then he kissed him, and still, Sam wanted to go back.

He wanted to go back to Luke fucking him to death. He wanted to die. Wanted a way out. But he was already dead. And this was Hell. This was the Cage. This was Lucifer.

There was no getting out.

Sam was eternally damned.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed the plot twist and this story. Thank you guys for reading. I swear I love Sam. And if you're reading any of my other stories and you're wondering about the progress of them, you can always check out my profile. I try to keep it updated with how far along I am with writing the next chapters. If you do want another Sam-centric story that's perhaps less intense and sexual than this, I recommend checking out my story _Deathless_. It's still incomplete, but I'm working on getting close to the end. And if sexual stuff and consent issues are more your thing for your reading material, maybe check out _Three Birds, One Stone_. Dean is in that one for real. Or if you want a story with Jack that's pretty dark, maybe _The Sins of Heaven_. And I'm sorry for all this self advertising. Just got a lot of stories.**


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